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.
“She frantically scanned, her voice trembling, ‘I’m sorry.’ I covered my face and just sobbed. I kept screaming to get her to try again. I can’t even begin to describe what it is like to know you are going to give birth to a dead baby. I tickled his button nose that matched mine. I was in complete awe.”
“I was excited and ready to meet our baby girl! I realized something was not right. I said, ‘What is happening?’ Why is my husband so confused and scared? Why can’t my mom look at me? Why did my doctor step out? No one said a word. The silence tore me apart. I finally got a glimpse of Bella and… she looked ‘different.’”
“I quickly became friends with Wanda, the lovely trans-vaginal ultrasound wand I had a hot date with every morning. ‘We found something on your cervix.’ My period stopped. I almost fainted on the subway on my way to work. I started gaining weight. I was told I likely would never naturally have children. Well, f**k.'”
“I posted all the funny memes. We went on saying it ‘wouldn’t happen to us here.’ My husband and I rolled our eyes and made jokes. As the days unfolded, it kept getting a little closer to home.”
“I would go into the bathroom stall during halftime and re-apply the tape that held my wig on. I saw nothing beautiful about my bald head. When they called me ‘baldy’ or said, ‘Lindsay is ugly,’ I believed it was true. I took my wig off mid-run. And for the first time, I saw nothing beautiful about it. I finally felt like I was the Lindsay I was always meant to be.”
“I watched her lips turn blue again. ‘Breathe baby girl. Please.’ We were force-feeding them to keep them alive. They poked Hazel over and over, trying to find a vein, finally landing on one in her head. I was horrified. ‘How in the world are we all going to survive this?’”
“When I saw images of our older folks struggling at grocery stores and meeting empty shelves, my heart absolutely broke. Some don’t have the technology to do their shopping online. Some can’t maneuver their walkers or motorized scooters through the crowds. Many don’t have the money to stock up on items. These are the people we are supposed to be protecting, and they’re falling through the cracks. I knew I had to do something.”
“I thought my husband would tell me to stop being so dramatic and ridiculous. After all, I was only 32 and I had a 0.0014% chance. Instead, he looked back at me, glossy-eyed, and said, ‘Maybe.’ My heart sank. The nurse unswaddled my baby and stared as my eyes filled with tears. I felt like my life, as I knew it, was over.”
“I cheated my way out, really believing the worst was over. That lasted 12 hours. My mom took me to the supermarket to buy a birthday cake for my friend. I stood in the cake aisle and started to panic. I couldn’t do it. I was so consumed by it, even looking at the cake felt like something I’d have to punish myself for. I left the story empty-handed and in tears. I didn’t think I’d live to see my 15th birthday.”
“My infertility journey began at 11. I’d just started my period and there I was, having life-saving surgery, my ovaries twisting in pain. ‘The growth on your bladder is cancerous and ready to spread.’ After years with my husband, it was time to call the IVF clinic. I did the usual bloodwork, only to be called soon after. ‘Can you come back in? It seems you’re already pregnant…’ Tears fell down my face. I could not believe my eyes.”