Emily Richey is a graduate of Pace University NYC. She has written and edited for multiple online platforms, including Love What Matters. She spends her free time petting stray cats.

Emily Richey is a graduate of Pace University NYC. She has written and edited for multiple online platforms, including Love What Matters. She spends her free time petting stray cats.
“I couldn’t move nor feel the entire left side of my face. I chewed a hole on the inside of my cheek due to no feeling. Looking at my mom and sisters’ faces filled with tears, I knew it wasn’t good.”
“I saw all these moms on Instagram, three days after having their babies, in jeans going out for coffee. I had a mom pouch, wider hips, wider thighs, and lots of new stretch marks. I felt like a failure already at one week postpartum.”
“I was the girl in the neck brace. ‘Just give it time,’ they repeated. My memory betrayed me, forgetting class times, notes, names. Every day, I woke up with a headache. Doctors warned me graduating was unlikely.”
“I freaked out. Then, BOOM! I said ta-ta to both of my tatas.’ Words cannot express the fear I felt.”
“’We need to land. We have to land the plane.’ I jumped out of my seat and ran down the aisle to the flight attendant who was passing out snacks. ‘Sir! Sir! Please!’ One man stepped forward quietly and said, ‘I’m a neurologist, I don’t know if I can be of any help.’”
“They performed every test under the sun. ‘He may never walk or talk.’ He could be dependent on us for the rest of his life. Well, we might as well prove all these doctors wrong!”
“It’s so incredibly heartbreaking to watch babies struggle through withdrawals and be powerless to make things better. The first time a baby left, I cried so hard I couldn’t see the steering wheel in front of my face.”
“We woke to what we thought was Matty snoring. Something didn’t sound right. The next few hours would consist of teams of doctors coming in and out of our room with solemn faces and stumped expressions. I ugly sobbed.”
“In the midst of licensing families and talking about the HUGE need for foster families, I realized something. My husband and I are exactly what I had been screaming from the rooftops that the system needs—people who have the time, love, and space to offer children when they need it most.”
“I was ‘cured,’ right? Uh, WRONG. Without batting an eye, they start laying on the pressure. ‘Don’t you want him to be a big brother?’ I wanted answers.”
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