“She had open heart surgery at just 1 day old. I was terrified. My little girl was on full life support. ‘Why would God give me a sick baby?’ She was bleeding out. I decided to turn something so painful into something beautiful. Even though I couldn’t save my baby, I decided I could save others.”
“My husband and I decided to stop fooling around. I loaded up 10 kids, rented a house in another state, and we hit the road. I waited for the final lab reports. I was making sandwiches. I’ll never forget which step I was on, because that’s how they stayed. Pregnant with our 11th baby, the surgeon’s number popped up on my phone. He asked me to walk away from the children. My heart screamed, ‘NOT MY BABY.’”
“I posted our most recent family photos, and the comments poured in about how ‘perfect’ my family was. I knew things needed to change. I didn’t want people to just like my photos, I wanted them to like me, all of me—even the painful, grieving parts. I am a child who was abused by her father at 3 years old. A teenager who was the victim of statutory rape. I found my husband unresponsive on the floor with a failing heart.”
“I grabbed a nurse’s arm as she walked by. ‘What’s wrong, is she okay?’ Stumbling over her words, she responded with, ‘Congratulations, she’s beautiful!’ Coward. She handed her to me before quickly walking out of the room, like she was some kind of damaged goods. Her tongue could barely fit in her mouth. I didn’t want to hold her, feed her, or even look at her. I was furious. All I could hear was that damn whispering.”
“I met and started dating my husband at 16. I was infatuated with this boy I met at the mall, with Justin Bieber hair. ‘You’re 16. It won’t last forever.’ ‘Be prepared to do this on your own. Babies are hard on couples, especially so young.’ ‘We’re very happy for you, but do you think this is a good idea? To get married? You’re too young.’ Whether you’re 15, or 50, when you meet the love of your life, you will know right away. I’m so glad I didn’t listen.”
“I just found this picture behind another photo in a frame and I’ve unearthed a memory. I see young me, about 3 weeks into my mom journey. I couldn’t possibly have known. And I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Christmas? Forget it. It’s not for me. I like the quiet. For a girl like me, holidays are overwhelming. But my mom loves to decorate. She puts up 5 Christmas trees. She goes all out. She begged me to go outside with her to look at them. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t care less. Just then it hit me. She cares. It’s important to her.”
“Our kids’ teachers have the math, reading, science, arts, and writing covered. And, Lord knows they make up for the parenting mistakes we are making at home. But, my goodness, what a ginormous favor we can do those educators, and the world, if we teach our children to be nice.”
“I was so drugged and drained physically my milk didn’t come in for days. My husband said, ‘As long as our baby is healthy and happy everything else doesn’t matter.’ But I didn’t feel the same. I was hopeless. We’d get the pre-made formula so we didn’t have to do any mixing when we left the house and no one would know. It was so stressful.”
“As I sat staring at the tree, silently pleading with God for direction, my doorbell rang. I made my way to the door, opened it and looked out – no one stood there. I looked down. To my surprise on the porch sat a glass jar piggy bank full of money. I read the card and started to cry. In a child’s handwriting, scribbled on a makeshift card, read the most beautiful little words.”
