Everyone has their own ideas and journeys into motherhood. We all have our own stories and they are each unique. I thought it might help someone else to see even if it is a messy beginning it can be something to celebrate. Also, remember YOU are also important. Here is my personal account of part of my journey. I hope you enjoy.
Finding Mom by Diane Dzurikanin 2/17/25
When I was in the fourth grade, I remember playing school with my little sisters. Each step was a desk, so Stephenie sat up top and the baby sister, Susie sat closer to the bottom step. I even gave them workbook papers to color and write words on. My baby sister, Susie learned to write her first word in my class. I gave her a mini-chalkboard and had her copy the letters “C-A-T” from a written page I created. As Susie wrote it out, I ran up to my room quickly and took my new polaroid camera out of the box. I wanted to share this moment with my mom. She was so proud of writing the word “C-A-T” that I still have the picture of it. Even at the age of 15, I wanted to be a mother. I dreamed of having ten children. I thought it was the most important job any of us could do.
Moms on television were the focal point of life. As a child I watched The Partridge Family regularly where Shirley Jones was the mom who ran the house and the band. She even sang with her family. She always had the best solution to any problem. I looked up to her.
More recently, I’ve admired the former first lady, Michelle Obama, for the importance she has placed on her family while in the White House. She has made the lives of children and families a priority even in the high-profile life of being the first lady. Her daughters were to attend school and be part of a normal family life even in the White House. Michelle Obama made her family as important as being in the White House. I admire that about her.
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The Surprise of a Lifetime
Going through my day to day life of a college student at Point Park University and working two jobs I had enough going on in my life until the unthinkable happened. David and I were seeing each other since 1986 when I missed my period. I was not a child anymore, so I understood the consequences of what David and I were doing, but thought it was not going to happen to us. I took my urine sample to The Planned Parenthood in downtown Pittsburgh before my Wednesday morning class and anxiously awaited the results. My best friend Mary went with me for moral support. It felt like we were there all day when the nurse in white behind the counter handed me my little yellow card back. I looked at the card and began to cry when the word positive was circled. Mary quickly came over and put her arms around me, “It will be okay.” She then said nothing as we walked to the elevator.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell my mom. I was 26 but still lived at home. I thought long and hard about what I could do. I had so many questions. The next Saturday when I went out with David to dinner, I told him I was pregnant. He said nothing about it and went home. I did not hear from him for months. I guessed I was on my own with this. Is abortion a solution? Not for me. I cannot do that. Hadn’t I always wanted to be a mother? What about school? As I struggled with this alone I worried about my future and how my mom would take this.
Finally, my mother saw mail from Magee Women’s Hospital and confronted me. I told her the truth and my plan to have the baby. Throughout the pregnancy many of my mother’s friends tried to make me feel badly. They insisted I was being selfish to keep my baby. How is caring for a life selfish? I told everyone, “I will do my best to give him everything he needs.” I thought my child was a boy so much I even began calling him Ian.
School had to be put on hold. This I knew. I went through my days going to work as my belly grew larger and I waddled around. One day on my way to work I saw David at a phone booth. Yes, I said phone booth. They did exist back then, and people used them. He saw me and looked down at my belly then back at my face. I didn’t say a word and ran into the day care I worked at. All I could do was go into the restroom and cry. I wanted to be with him but not just because of the baby. I wanted him to want to be with me. I worked all day feeling this turmoil.
When I got home and putting my swollen feet up the phone rang startling me. David was on the other end,” Hey, how are you doing?”
“I am doing okay, I guess.”
“So, you really are having my baby?”
“Yes, I told you that. Where were you all this time?”
“I dunno. I got scared.” A silence fell between us.
Crying now, “And you think I wasn’t?”
“We need to talk Diane. I want to be there for my child.”
“I would never keep your child from you, but I needed you.” I was half yelling and half crying by this time. “I decided to do this without you because you ran away! You left me!”
“I am sorry Diane. I didn’t want to believe you. Can we talk tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure. Call me so we can meet in the afternoon sometime.”
We hung up and I was shaking. My mom peeped her head into the livingroom, “Are you okay?” “Yes, mom.” I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hug him. I wanted so many different things in that one moment. Sixteen years of marriage and three children later we made it work.
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Most Important Moment of My Life
The moment I have dreamed of since I was a child had arrived. It was November 30, 1989 and I went to my doctor’s appointment after a long week on bedrest. My preeclampsia did not improve so I was rushed to delivery around one in the afternoon. I remember feeling anxious because it’s a month too early to have the baby. I began to cry. Nurses surrounded me, and Pitocin was started. My blood pressure kept rising and I was in more danger now. I remember it so vivid. They broke my water and POW, labor began.
It is 10:24 PM by now. They lay my newborn fresh from the work of childbirth on my stomach. Screaming and squirming and still attached they cut her chord while she lay on my belly. I touched this new being and realized it was truly time. I started to cry and coo at her instinctively. This was the moment I had been waiting for. I could not feel any stronger for anyone ever. They whisked her away, but I was still being worked on. I wanted her back. Bring her back. I never wanted to be apart from her. I needed her as much as she needed me.
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More Special Bundles Arrive
As David and I build our lives together we enjoyed many opportunities to experience the pain and joys of becoming parents. For starters 1991 was very upsetting year with the loss of three children unexpectedly. In January of 1991 I gave birth to twins too early for them to survive. I was only 19 ½ weeks pregnant as I went into labor at home in our little cramped bedroom while David was at work. This was our daughter we later named Delicia. After being rushed to the hospital, they realized I had another child still viable in my womb. Through this ultrasound they saw this child was still okay and in his own sac. Complications happened causing him to be born just to die. We named our son Derek. I was discharged empty handed and so full of sorrow I could barely get out of bed. We had a little burial for our twins then life was supposed to be normal. I thought it would never be normal again. What had I done to deserve this? Why am I here? I questioned God and hated him for taking my children. I was lost. David helped me back to health and I resumed my work at the Children’s Center of Pittsburgh as a lead teacher of the two-year old children. I had tests to find out what went wrong. The doctors assured me it was just nature; one twin was taking from the other causing the premature birth. It was not me, but it did not make me feel better.
I began birth control pills, so my body could heal before attempting to have more children. Within months we found out that the pill was not effective for me when I became pregnant again. I feared the worst would happen. Everything was fine this time I was over the hump at twenty-one weeks. Then as I was closing in on the next week I went into labor. OH, NO! I began losing so much blood during labor they were preparing for a transfusion. David later told me he feared he was losing me too. I delivered a baby girl we named Dorian. She was only fifteen inches long and survived only three and a half hours. We buried her with the twins.
Again, with even more sadness I questioned God and my faith. My prayers were answered about three years later with the birth of our son Dakota on May 25, 1994. He was born not without struggles on our parts. I was due in June and went into early labor again in March. The doctors at Magee Women’s Hospital in Pittsburgh were able with medication, putting me on total bed rest and with giving me great care helped him to be born. He was a healthy boy we named Dakota.
I remember being in the recovery room after the birth of Dakota when I first saw David cry. He never cried. He believed real men don’t cry. I asked him, “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” He said, “Yes, I am just so happy you both are doing good. I was so worried. I love you.”
Our son Dustin was then born a few years later on May 12, 1997 with less complications and perfectly healthy. God has answered our prayers and I decided not to tempt fate. I wanted those ten children but not at the expense of me and my health. Who would care for them if I am not here was the thought that raised through my mind. I decided to get the tubal ligation, so I could not have any more children. It was not fair to the children we already had to put my health at risk having more children.
Motherhood is the most valuable gift we can give but we need to take care of ourselves, so we have the life to share with our children. It took me a long time to realize this. Looking back now I can say that.
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After my mother became divorced, she worked nights at a factory building furniture, but would have a meal ready for us as soon as we got in from school. We discussed our days and anything on our minds together. This felt important to me to carry this tradition on in my own family. It was when I felt so much admiration for my mother. I knew she worked all night. After dinner we had to gather our school work and clothes to sleep at grandma’s apartment. Children were not allowed to stay there so we had to sneak in quietly. Our grandmother lived in an elderly high-rise apartment where you had to be over 55 to live there. You could visit for a day or two but not live there for extended periods of time. We would do our homework, bathe and camp out in the living room. It was a tiny efficiency apartment in a senior high rise at which one day I would take my own mom to. In the morning my mom would come get us and make sure we got off to school. This was our life until mom bought our own home two years later.
My tendency to be a giver is at the root of everything I do. Sometimes I do too much for others and forget about myself. Three years ago, I was riding the 61C to work from Pittsburgh to Squirrel Hill when I noticed a woman rummaging through her purse frantically. I felt the strong need to help so I took my last two dollars and handed them to her. I said, “here.” She looked so relieved and put them in the coin box. This left me with not enough to get myself some food for lunch. I’m not a saint, but I thought more about her being able to get where she was going before thinking of myself. I felt good about helping somebody else.
So, what does this have to do with motherhood? As a mother I always put our children, Davida, Dakota and Dustin’s needs first. We had a working-class income, but we made sure our children did not go without. Davida, our oldest was in concert band. She needed a black skirt and a white button-down blouse to perform in the Christmas concert. With my next monthly pay check, I bought her a skirt and blouse. My own shoes as I looked down at them still had the big holes in the sides of them, but it did not matter to me. It was more important to me to meet Davida’s need before mine.
When I thought of mothers I saw them caring for their children. Our society even portrayed motherhood as being perfect. An example of that comes to mind is the mother on the television series “The Brady Bunch”. She had six children from a combined marriage and was always smiling. Her hair was perfect. She never fought with her spouse. I know it was a television show, but it seemed so easy. She had it all together.
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Worst Mom Ever Moment
- My new baby girl, Davida came home from the hospital.
- She was about three weeks old now.
- Her fingernails were so long she scratched her own face.
- Okay, time to cut her nails so this won’t happen again.
- She was on my chest as I begin this delicate operation.
- I clipped, and clipped and clipped. All was good.
- I clipped again, and she cried.
There was blood. I cried holding her. I felt like the worst mom ever. I had cut too close to the skin when she moved. I could not stop crying as I cleaned her finger and held her close. I felt like I did not deserve to be her mom. Was Peggy Bundy a better mom than I was at that moment? I apologized over and over. How could I be such a bad mom? A feeling of dread washed over me. Could I really do this? What have I gotten myself into? I kissed Davida’s forehead and said quietly to her I was so sorry. Still in my arms she looked up at me. I will never hurt you again I vowed to her with all my being.
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On November 7, 2002 I went to work as usual until I got a phone call from our daughter, “Mom, we can’t wake daddy.” She was half crying and half trying to stay calm. I am not sure if it was for me or her brothers she was trying to strong for, but I understood it in her voice. I rushed home so fast I was going at least 35 through Hazelwood then when I reached home the wooden porch seemed so much larger than ever. When I ran into the house our children were pacing in the kitchen and there he was seated in our living room with clenched fists and purple lips. I dialed 911 and began CPR. I knew it was too late but had to try. The paramedics took over as I stood helpless. It was over. I just walked around picking up things, crying and feeling lost in a sea of police and family members.
This is the biggest loss our family has suffered. My children needed me. It was more important to be here for them. At least that is what I thought back then. Taking care of them and only them was on my mind. I did everything I could for them. I worked my hardest to help them through this while helping myself cope. We attended counseling at the Caring Place in downtown Pittsburgh which helped us all deal. We always included their father in our holiday meals with a candle in his place and still do. Motherhood became more of a duty to make up for only having one parent. I lost myself in these days. It would take me years to find my way back to myself.
As a mother I took care of my children the way I felt they deserved. I loved being their mom. I took pride in it. The problem was balance in my own life. I decided at one point to homeschool my two youngest because of bullying at school. On top of my daily routine I had to create lesson plans and teach my children daily. After work I spent the evening going over lessons with my children. I doled out activities for while I was at work. Davida was 13 so she watched the boys for me while I was at work. I packed three bags of meals for each of them while I was away and tucked them in the refrigerator daily. I had no time to breathe or do anything for myself. I lost myself in these days. I had no friends, no hobbies or anything besides my children. This was not a healthy way to live.
It was March of 2008, I woke up at 2:00 AM with sharp pains on my right side. I had these pains lying down and sitting up. I was having trouble walking and even breathing. The pain would come and go. I was scared. What do I do? I have three children here. I decided to go to the emergency room after I woke the children. I didn’t want them to see an ambulance come for their mother. The last time they saw an ambulance come to the house for someone was the day their father passed away. I could not do that to them. It was difficult enough dealing with his loss without having to traumatize them again. I suffered and cried alone in my room. I even muffled my cries into my pillow. Once my sister came for them I drove myself to the hospital. They loved hanging with their cousins, so this was not unordinary. I still do not know how I drove myself there.
Once in the emergency room and examined, the doctor gave me the news. I was in kidney failure and had a golf ball sized stone in my right kidney. He informed me my left kidney had already failed. They were going to try to save my right kidney which was only at 20 percent functioning. I ended up with a urostomy bag until I could have the stone removed with laser surgery. I was so sad in the hospital all I did was cry. One of the nurses even entered my room concerned about my tears. I remember taking a peak at my chart and seeing she even wrote it on there (watch for signs of depression).
My own mom brought the children to the hospital to see me after getting them off the school bus. I was grateful my mom helped me take care of them. They came in all excited. This was the best thing she could have done for me. I needed them. Davida, my oldest said, “Mom, I did the dishes for you, so you don’t have to worry.” Dakota was afraid to get on the bed next to me, but I told him it was okay. He said he didn’t want to hurt me. Dustin, my little Evil Knievel jumped right next to me with a picture he drew for me. My mom just sat in the recliner by the window. She was very quiet which told me she was worried. When we sent the children down to the vending machines I told her the diagnosis. I had a long road ahead of me with further surgeries. I found out I was a diabetic which is what caused this all in the first place. The best feeling in the world was when they hugged me and told me they loved me when they left.
That feeling of love from them in that moment was amazing but bittersweet. I was not doing my best for them. I cried and cried. I felt so alone in that moment. Now I am at odds with myself. How do I be a good mom and take care of me?
A good friend and coworker of mine gave me good advice I had to really consider. As we sat in my living room on a visit after my kidney surgery, she posed this question to me, “How can you take care of your children if you do not take care of yourself first?” She went on to explain to me if I was not happy and healthy then I could not really be there for my children in the right way. This for me was the turning point. I realized I was not doing well for them because I was not healthy for them.
I needed to take care of me too. If I don’t I will not be there at all for them. The advice my friend gave me I wish I heard earlier. I am in my heart always a mom first. I take care of others. It is the heart and soul of myself, but I betrayed my children. I wasn’t doing what was good for them. What would be good for them would be to have a mom at all. I was being selfish in thinking about how I felt taking care of them. I started exercising and changed my diet to become healthier. It is still a work in progress. I began going out with peers and even dating again. I have taken trips recently because they are all young adults now. I have learned to be a more rounded person. I am a grandma too, so I want to set a better example for her. t At least I hope I do.