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 was losing weight and missing school a few days a week. I was in bed all week but when Friday rolled around, I insisted on going to the St. Patrick’s Day Breakfast. I barely remember the morning. We went on stage and just as the piano started, everything went black.”
“She didn’t laugh as much. She didn’t recognize me, and she wasn’t able to hold a conversation. I couldn’t believe the timing. It felt like a sign from my grandfather. I knew what I had to do.“
“I knew something was wrong. A nurse came in and said Ellis had stopped breathing in the nursery twice. ‘She’s at high risk for significant developmental disabilities.’ He encouraged my husband and I to have a conversation about what to do if our baby didn’t wake up.”
“‘We need your permission to do whatever it takes to save your son’s life.’ I took one look at him and vomited. All I can remember is watching the nurse methodically pump a bag, breathing life into my son one squeeze at a time.”
“A scrumptious little boy was placed on my chest. I felt heart-stopping panic. ’This canNOT be my baby.’ I had prayed specifically against this. I thought things a mother should NEVER think.”
“I was convinced there wasn’t anything ‘wrong’ with my son. I would have been called a ‘refrigerator Mom,’ meaning I was cold-hearted and had ‘thawed out’ long enough to reproduce, then not showing my child love, resulting in a diagnosis.”
“One day, she stopped eating and cried most of the morning. I thought they would send me home with Tylenol. The doctor came in and said, ‘Pack a bag and go to the hospital.’ I had to go full steam ahead.”
“‘There’s nothing to worry about.’ I remember looking for clues. Nobody else did. Not the midwife, not our health visitor, not the doctors. Nobody. I didn’t want it to be true.”
“I was a child learning I would never carry a child. I had the option for treatment. I would be upstairs doing this painful and intrusive act, while my family was desperately pretending I wasn’t. I felt defected and apologetic for not being ‘complete.’”
“When she tried to look at her face, she paused for a while. I will never forget that pause. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. I turned away. I grieved over the vision of my daughter I had created.”