“We sat in the doctor’s office on Valentine’s Day. ’The surgery wasn’t successful. There’s a .02% chance for genetic children.’ I was desperate at this point. I even contacted the local animal shelter to see if they had any kittens. I was spiraling.”
“What’s the point of having a child if you lose your own identity? I still had so much to offer in my life, but technically ‘nothing’ to show for it. I permitted myself to be me.”
“I was known as ‘Chelsea with one finger.’ A little girl started screaming like she’d seen a monster. She pointed straight at my hand and screamed as if it were a feral animal coming at her.”
“I was bloated from the chemotherapy and chunks of my hair were falling out. I was ill and exhausted. As defeated as I felt, I wasn’t ready to give up hope for our happy ending.”
“While I sometimes long to feel the naivety I felt before that day, I know I am exactly the person I am meant to be right now. I’ve gained confidence and a voice I didn’t know I had. I will ALWAYS fight for him.”
“For the next 3 years, I was their mom and they were my kids. They were a part of our family. All of our hopes and dreams unraveled with a single court hearing.”
“‘They saw a leak when they changed her feeding tube. ‘It should heal on its own.’ We BEGGED them to listen.”
“My partner made me a cup of tea and left me on the sofa. When he came back 3 hours later, I was in the same place with a cold cup of tea in my hand. I hadn’t moved. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ I broke down.”
“We were sent home with shattered dreams and heavy hearts. They didn’t make eye contact and ate through a tube. Doctors told us we’d have to wait for science to catch up. Their ‘Good luck’ as we walked out the door felt like a kick in the gut.”
“The load we carry is heavy, from the moment our feet hit the floor to the moment our head hits the pillow.”
