“I sat down on the toilet, bleeding. ‘Stay where you are. Do not flush. We’re sending an ambulance.’ As the gynecologist explained how small babies are at this stage, she started to roll my baby between her fingers. I couldn’t believe it. With the shock and upset of everything going on, I said nothing.”
“I thought I wouldn’t be here to raise my babies. I remember thinking I was dying as I closed my eyes. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
“I picked up a million shoes and socks and empty wrappers and stray toys from the floor then washed breakfast dishes and gathered clothes that are sitting BESIDE the hamper to shove into the washer. And my eyes came to rest on the empty toilet paper roll.”
“I thought I could protect my child well enough. A trusted big person took advantage of them.”
“He gave me a chance. He opened his heart and his home and allowed me to get to know the rest of his family. And for that opportunity, I will be forever grateful.”
“My mom always carried a brush and detangler. She still carries them with her everywhere she goes, 26 years later. I remember sitting on the floor in my living room, my mom meticulously brushing for hours, crying because of the comments. I wanted to be like the other kids. ‘This is just the way it is, honey.'”
“’Mommy, I’m just sad and don’t know why.’ My heart broke for him. There were no goodbyes.”
“Caleb is autistic and struggles with comprehending and engaging in conversation. My reality is that I can’t have race conversations. I don’t know if he will ever understand.”
“People would approach our daughter and ask if she was lost and needed help finding her mommy. We were followed and harassed by cops sometimes for miles while we drove. They demanded to know if he was a gang banger.”
“I isolated myself and refused to leave the apartment. I canceled therapies, stopped cleaning and cooking, sobbed, and threw things. I finally emerged from the fog.”
