As a wife of 34 years and a mother of eight children, I’ve lived through heartaches and miracles.
My husband and I buried our seventh child, a daughter, when she was just a week old. Our next child, a son, was diagnosed at age two with Angleman’s syndrome.
To the outside world, I had everything together. But under the surface I felt frumpy and worn out. And I was a hot mess of fear and anxiety, especially about the future.
I was quickly approaching midlife.
Things were definitely not going as planned.
I had done everything “right.” I was a faithful Latter-day Saint. I had served and mothered and followed the commandments.
What was happening?