Today I'm writing a personal post.  And I hope you'll forgive me.

50 years ago this April I gave birth to a 9lb 14oz baby girl.  She was beautiful.  I was lucky enough to be a stay at home Mom until she started school.  We did everything together.

I went to work so hubby could get finish his degree at UofF and get a better job than electrician's apprentice.  So her grandmother who lived next door took care of her.  When she was seven, I had to make the decision to let her become a latch key kid.  Her grandmother had told her there was no Santa Claus and she was devastated.  School was only two blocks away and there were neighbors who watched out for her. 

During those years she was given chores.  She could clean, wash clothes, and cook supper with the best of them.  We managed to keep our heads above water and hubby finally finished and went to work teaching school.  It took a couple of more years to get in a better financial situation.  By that time she was a teenager, I liked my job, and decided to keep working.

I thought I had done a pretty good job; the best I knew how.  I certainly had no guidance from my own mother.  I had loved her unconditionally, as I still do, and felt she was going to do good things.

That girl now a woman of 50, mother of three, is laying in ICU in a hospital in Alabama.  She overdosed on prescription drugs.  She is in stable condition.  I have not been able to talk to her since she has had a breathing tube and has been asleep since it happened.  One of my grandsons who lives there has born the brunt of the worry and taking care of his younger sister while holding down a job.  He's one of the best kids around.  But it is hard for him.

That's my story today.  I feel better writing about it.  I am hurt but not beating myself up over it.  This was her choice.  She has problems and I am praying this will wake her up and she will get help.  Thanks for reading.  I'm sorry it is such a sad post.