“At 2 a.m. this morning, as my daughter snuggled into me, I told her stories about bunnies, fields of flowers… Nothing worked. We are protective about what our tender-hearted children see. We are cautious. When I was 9, I watched a movie that traumatized me around the same age. We will not toughen her up.”
“At 40 years old, post-vasectomy, we thought my husband was shootin’ blanks. All I could do was laugh out of shock. Very quickly followed by a much larger part of me saying, ‘Oh…sh*t…’ As I stood up and washed my hands, I was overcome with a feeling of dread.”
“I’ve stood with a mother before a judge so she had someone to support her. I’ve rocked a child far too big for hours until they collapsed from exhaustion. NOTHING can prepare you for the heaviness. This can’t be about you.”
“We take in a million messages putting us into good old-fashioned fight or flight. It’s legitimately exhausting. I do not have a drop of ‘trying my best’ left in me.”
“‘Would you be willing to take in a little boy who was just born? He needs a family.’ I called the social worker back. ‘YES!’ Two days later, I met the second love of my life. A tiny, beautiful boy with the most gorgeous blue eyes I’d ever seen. The moment I laid eyes on him, my heart knew. He was my son, my missing puzzle piece.”
“It was our first excursion. I tried to hush him, rock him, to no avail. I was close to tears. ‘Calm your nervous hands!’ In the changing rooms of Target, I learned my first lesson in parenting. ”
“I thought it was one more way to say, ‘I know your baby died, but look, you get a NEW one!’ I could not handle anything that conveyed a replacement. This storm doesn’t end, there can’t be a rainbow.”
“People said my 22-year-old daughter and I looked like sisters, and I thought I was giving that up. I decided I was grateful to be the age I was because aging is not a privilege everyone gets.”
“The doctor looked worried. ‘I can’t find a heartbeat.’ I asked, ‘Both of them?’ It had been over 3 years and yet, we still had not let go. Until we got a call about a mom who wanted to meet us.”
“I was shamed for talking about my children who died. I was told to concentrate on the living child I have, not the two no longer physically in my arms. My 7-year-old sat next to me as I wiped away tears. I asked her about that special note, handwritten with so much love.”
