They'll inspire you to give back in ways you never even thought of.
By Jessica Press Published: May 2, 2017
It's a scientific fact: Becoming a mother amplifies your protective instinct. Also a fact: Most days, just keeping those kids clean, fed, and smiling doesn't leave you much time to save the world. That's why this Mother's Day, we teamed up with the anchors of Good Morning America to honor four moms who prove that no matter how much you have on your plate, you can still carve out time to make a difference that's meaningful. Inspiration, right this way.
C onsider for a second how distraught you'd be if you couldn't afford a prescription your sick child needed to get well. Low-income parents who have children with severe food allergies experience that feeling every day, says Kansas City mom Emily Brown. It was just after Christmas in 2012 when her oldest daughter, Catherine, then 1, was diagnosed. "After having a massive reaction to peanut butter, we found out she also couldn't have milk, wheat, soy, or eggs," explains Emily, 31. Many of the foods on the family's new restrictive diet cost up to four times as much as what they normally spent, putting a huge strain on the modest income Emily's husband earned as a social worker. "And I couldn't just buy enough for Catherine. Because I was still breastfeeding her, I had to change my diet as well."
The former preschool teacher enrolled in Women, Infants, and Children (WIC), a federal nutrition assistance program, only to find that the items covered didn't satisfactorily fulfill her family's needs. Next she tried a food bank, where she waited in line for hours… to leave with only a jar of salsa and two potatoes. "I asked a manager if they ever got allergy-friendly food and she said, 'Well, you got something, didn't you?' I was heartbroken. I thought, Emily, you can't break down here in front of everybody. So I thanked her and quickly left. That's when I decided to do something. Food is not a luxury—it's a basic human right. Especially when you are diagnosed with a disease that is only managed by what you eat."
In 2014 Emily co-founded Food Equality Initiative, which opened the country's first free pantry for families coping with food allergies and celiac disease. FEI also focuses on education and advocacy, lobbying to expand what WIC will cover. Jan DeMoure, whose 11-year-old son has celiac disease and is allergic to eggs and peanuts as well, has been a patron since 2015. She says the ability to help her child feel included has been one of the program's biggest side benefits. "The cost of making gluten-free cupcakes for family celebrations was just too expensive before. I am so thankful to Emily. She knows what it's like, and she works so hard to provide adequate choices." Emily, who in addition to Catherine, now 5, also has 3-year-old daughter Hannah, says, "I don't want people to think I'm some supermom who juggles it effortlessly. My husband and I tag-team parenting. I wake up every morning before my kids do to work, and I focus on it when they nap and as soon as I put them to bed. In the early days when Hannah was little, I'd take her to meetings in my Ergobaby carrier and nurse while replying to emails. What I'd say to a mom who sees a problem that has impacted her family and wants to change it? It won't be easy, but it is so worth it."
See foodequalityinitiative.org for volunteer opportunities and to donate.
"Believe in yourself, not the naysayers," says Emily, with Catherine, 5, and Hannah, 3.
"Emily's story is the perfect example of what I like to call 'making your mess your message.' She faced her family's challenge head-on and came up with a solution that helped not only her own children but the children and families in her community. Emily Brown is a motivated mom making a big difference." —Robin Roberts
Amy paterson and melissa Moore have been collaborating on creative child-care solutions for years. Back when the two Portland, OR, moms were working as public relations professionals, they shared a nanny for Amy's son, Jonah, and Melissa's daughter, Jena, who are both now 13. Their next endeavor, dreamed up after Amy's year-long struggle with breast cancer at age 34, has nurtured thousands of children. "I was still recovering in my fuzzy slippers and robe when Melissa asked what I had learned from my cancer experience that could help other people," says Amy. "I immediately said, 'You know, child care at the hospital would have been really great.' Often you'll see babysitting services at the gym or places you shop, like Ikea. Why not in a place where it's really needed?" The two women began talking to local hospital administrators and, in short order, launched My Little Waiting Room, free on-site child-care centers at two major Portland hospitals: Providence St. Vincent Medical Center and Providence Portland Medical Center.
Open weekdays for eight hours and run by licensed child-care experts and helpers from Volunteers of America Oregon, the centers allow parents to get treatment or visit loved ones without added stress. "The first day we opened, a dad whose wife was coping with serious medical issues came in and got tears in his eyes as he said, 'This will change my life.' That's what we wanted, to remove the barriers stopping families from getting to the hospital," says Amy, now 45. When Cassie Spain gave birth two months early to her son this past November, she came to rely on My Little Waiting Room to care for her 5-year-old daughter. "Knowing that she was happy and safe allowed me to focus on my son in intensive care. My daughter still asks if she can go back," she says. Melissa, 50, believes the key to making their mission happen was courage—and enlisting great partners. "You may think of yourself as 'just a mom' who a large important institution won't listen to. But when I worked in PR, I saw some of my major clients award grants to regular people who'd approached them with a good idea. That's how I knew we could do the same thing," she says.
Want to start a similar program in your local hospital? See mylittlewaitingroom.org; Amy and Melissa are happy to share info and best practices.
"We want our model to inspire others," says Amy (right), with Melissa.
"My girls were 7 and 10 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. As a survivor, I understand how important it is to ensure that our kids have safe and reliable child care while we fight the fight. Amy's and Melissa's work is inspiring because it gives our children the peace of mind they deserve." —Amy Robach
Camille Proctor had a gut feeling. "The doctor kept telling me things were fine," she says of her instinct in 2007 that her son, Ari, then 1, had more than a developmental delay. It wasn't until she pushed to see a developmental pediatrician that he received the diagnosis she suspected: autism. Camille threw herself into tending to Ari—shuttling him to different therapies, regularly rushing out of work to retrieve him from preschool when he became overwhelmed. "I was crying in my car in the parking lot of Ari's school one day when I knew I had to quit my job to care for him," says the 50-year-old Birmingham, MI, mom, who now lives off her retirement savings.
She also wanted time to help parents of color who didn't have the resources she did. Children of color from low-income households are often diagnosed later than their white peers, Camille has learned from child development researchers she's spoken with. That delay can lead to less successful outcomes. She found there were other cultural factors the mainstream community wasn't prepared to address, from the stigma around autism in the African-American community to her concerns about law enforcement. "I went to a lot of good support groups, but I was usually the only African-American face there. At the time, Ari was nonverbal, so I'd ask, 'When he's 13 and can't respond to a question, will he get shot? Will they understand that he's not being defiant? How do I teach him what to do?' There are many autistic children of color in the criminal justice system because they were perceived as having behavioral problems."
In 2009, Camille founded the Color of Autism Foundation, a nonprofit that focuses on the kinds of issues Ari faces. It has taken on everything from educating families about early diagnosis to gearing up children with autism to find meaningful work by introducing them to STEM programs. George C. Weaver, a Detroit widower and single dad to a teenage daughter who wanders (a common trait of many with autism), says Camille's support has been invaluable. "Each time she's run off, Camille used her connections at news stations to spread the word. She also helped me get a device my daughter keeps in her pocket so I can track her," George says. Not all of the families Camille assists are local, but they get the same personal attention. "People contact me from around the U.S. and the world asking for advice," she says. "I've grown a network of therapeutic partners, so often I can refer them to good local services, and also parent advocates willing to lend a hand like I would."
See thecolorofautism.org for autism resources and to donate.
Camille, with Ari (now 11), says her new aim is to build bonds between children with autism and their typical peers.
"I'm a mom who is also from Michigan, so Camille's story hit close to home. Her devotion to her son and to so many other people's children will help change the face of autism. Leaving her career was so brave, and now this movement could have lasting effects on families forever." —Ginger Zee
K imberly Felshaw was pregnant in 2005 when she and her then-husband, a U.S. Marine, were surprised with a baby shower by a local church. "They provided everything we could possibly need," recalls Kimberly, now 39. But that feeling of preparedness did not last long: Kimberly gave birth six weeks early to a beautiful daughter, Alyssa Victoria, who they discovered suffered from a fatal genetic condition. Just over a month later, Kimberly was back at the same church where she'd had her shower—this time, for Alyssa's memorial service. "I asked everyone to bring stuffed animals that we'd later deliver to families at area hospitals. The image of members of my husband's command in their dress blues walking down the aisle holding stuffed animals will stay with me forever."
As a distraction from her grief, she began searching for other ways to give back to the community. In late 2006, Kimberly was pregnant again, with daughter Danielle, when she came up with a plan: She'd celebrate expecting military and first-responder families the same way she had been. "They risk their lives every day for our families, and giving love to theirs is how we can show gratitude," Kimberly says. Since then, Operation Showers of Appreciation, her Fallbrook, CA–based nonprofit, has gifted more than 8,000 families stationed around the world essentials from diapers to car seats, via care packages and group parties. Caitlin Tobin of San Diego, the wife of a U.S. Marine and a Family Readiness Officer herself, was honored this past February. "With our friends and family all the way in Florida, this was our only chance for a shower, and it was just phenomenal to be so cared for," she says.
Kimberly, who gave birth to son Benjamin a year after Danielle was born, says, "We have to show our children how important it is to support each other, that together there's nothing that can stop us." It's fitting, then, that she credits her partners and volunteers with keeping her on track while juggling a cosmetology career on top of her nonprofit work. She offers this bit of hard-earned advice, too: "My guiding principle is reminding myself that everything has a way of working itself out, and that I need to take time to breathe!"
See osoamil.org for information on how to donate supplies or host a shower.
"Military spouses make many sacrifices, so it's important to think about them, too," says Kimberly.
"Kimberly Felshaw has done something mothers would never think possible. After losing her newborn child to terminal illness, she found solace in helping other new moms. With every shower she throws, providing donated supplies for families in need—8,000 and counting— she honors and remembers her own little angel." —Lara Spencer
Good Morning America airs weekdays at 7 a.m. ET on ABC.
