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’ve pulled live frogs from my son’s pants. They’ve peed in their dresser drawers. Their tiny lives are brimming with trauma and neglect. I’ve lost friends and family. I’ve missed major portions of their lives. They will always belong to another mama, too.”
“After we lost Hannah, he began spiraling. One night, he came home extremely late and he was crying. His drinking increased. I tried to reach out to him but his personality was split in two.”
“I was sweating profusely and vomited in a bush from the pain. I was too young to get sick! I’d always been told your 20’s are the best years of your life but I was just watching them go by from my bed.”
“I walked over and found a gold pack of gummy bears, and a sticky note that read, ‘I love you.’ I burst into tears.”
“Our 3-year-old snuggled in my lap and cried. DCS drove away with our kids. I cried. How do you convince them you will always love them? It’s not their fault.”
“He had tubes all over his body and when they put him on my chest, I barely felt the weight of him. I was faced with a baby labeled ‘Failure to Thrive.’ He looked strange to me. He was unlike any other baby I had ever seen.”
“I stared at the doctor with tears rolling down my face. ‘Go through with what? My child I have dreamed about since I was a little girl?’ She was asking me if I wanted to end my pregnancy because my son had a birth defect that was not life-threatening.”
“I didn’t want to face it. It was scary and unknown. My husband had an even more difficult time. He stood fast, insisting Beckham just needed time. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“’This defect is so rare, you’ll probably never see it in your lifetime.’ I felt like I was in a dream. I pinched myself a few times. What snapped me back to reality was the doctor saying, ‘I can do these surgeries, but his chance of survival is slim.’ I wanted the nightmare to end.”
“At 5.30 a.m., a friend was in our bedroom. ‘Wake up, he’s hurt his head!’ His skull was shattered. I collapsed on him and cried like I never cried in my life. How was I going to tell the boys what happened to their daddy? I rang the ICU to tell them of my wishes.”