Rebecca Balfe is a former editor for Love What Matters. She resides in NYC, owning and rescuing adorable cats. She is an avid Lupus fighter and advocate.

Rebecca Balfe is a former editor for Love What Matters. She resides in NYC, owning and rescuing adorable cats. She is an avid Lupus fighter and advocate.
“I was so drugged and drained physically my milk didn’t come in for days. My husband said, ‘As long as our baby is healthy and happy everything else doesn’t matter.’ But I didn’t feel the same. I was hopeless. We’d get the pre-made formula so we didn’t have to do any mixing when we left the house and no one would know. It was so stressful.”
“I was leaving the grocery store. An older woman was staring at me. I felt the familiar rush of blood heat my cheeks and anger rise in my throat. Instead of asking questions about a body that wasn’t hers, she smiled widely. ‘I think I saw you in a magazine!’ I exhaled and laughed, confirming that she had. My scarring looks like burns. This is ‘the worst disease you’ve never heard of.'”
“I almost died on the operating table while my husband was talking to other women. ‘He said you’re giving him a hard time about not coming to visit you. You need to be more independent and let him do his duties.’ I was physically and emotionally broken. I didn’t care if I survived.”
“My wife just thought I was weird and Sophie was a chip off the old block. More than just acting like her Daddy, she was autistic like her Daddy. My hope is she meets a partner who loves and understands her and she has 3 autistic daughters so I can have 3 autistic granddaughters!”
“She said, ‘Get a nurse in the room!’ I found the call button. We had waited so long to have Kane and to hold him and watch him grow. But all of it was gone, just gone!”
“Our babies! Were they gone? We drove the 3 hours to the IVF clinic. The doctor informed us, ‘One baby is still there, and next to the baby is a blood clot 4 times its size.’ I remember my eyes filling with tears. I began crying on my wife’s shoulder. ‘What you two are doing isn’t right.’ No one ever tells you how hard it will be to have kids when you’re gay.”
“My imagination was running wild. I was definitely assuming she was going to tell us something bad. But no. No. No. No. ‘Do you kids know what song they are singing right now?’ ‘Yes,’ I replied (still confused). She began to lightly pat her hands on the bed, beaming with pride.”
“I had offered to help my then-boyfriend unpack boxes for his new home. Knowing I was still sensitive to items from the life he had before me, I offered to unpack the living room. I came across something which stopped me in my tracks. I immediately felt sick to my stomach. ‘Am I as pretty as she is?’ I began to feel extremely insecure.”
“The doctor actually laughed and told me I was ‘just dehydrated.’ One asked, ‘Have you been sexually abused?’ He thought the pain was in my head. I decided it was time to walk away from my dream of being a mother. ‘It’s okay to put yourself and your health first. It’s okay to stop.’ She lovingly placed her hands on my shoulders, looked directly into my eyes and said, ‘You’re going to be okay.'”
“How can an athletic, smart, strong young woman who has the entire world ahead of her have an incurable sickness? Even with a doctor’s note, my administration accused me of trying to get out of my contractual duties. ‘It’s ridiculous Jess keeps calling off. Does she expect us to cover her classes all of the time?’”