I Need A New Kidney. My Daughter Wants To Give Me Hers — But How Can I Accept It?
HuffPost
"Over the years, I’ve stressed the importance of kindness. Maybe she’s taken that lesson too far."
I slide closer to Liza, my only daughter, sitting on the cream chenille sofa as she explains she wants to donate her kidney to me. The knot in my gut tightens. My maternal instincts rise like an emotional geyser.
It’s cozy in the house, but a cold January sky tops snowy evergreens beyond the window. Liza lives in Philadelphia, but she can work anywhere remotely, so she has come home to Minnesota for an extended holiday visit.
Her words melt me, and I clasp one of her hands with both of mine.
She wants to protect me and make everything OK. But isn’t this my job? My innate instinct to protect her from harm was instantaneous from the moment she was born 25 years ago.
Even during my pregnancy, a fierce parental protection circulated through me, and it hasn’t dissipated. I’d still move a mountain for her, so my mama-bear nature doesn’t know how to process this.
