“My husband was active-duty military when we felt the calling to foster. ‘You’re so strong little man.’ All we could hear was a shallow cry from his tiny mouth. ‘Please, God, let him live.’ We never left his side.”
- Love What Matters
- Children
“My husband was active-duty military when we felt the calling to foster. ‘You’re so strong little man.’ All we could hear was a shallow cry from his tiny mouth. ‘Please, God, let him live.’ We never left his side.”
“This started long before ‘wine mom culture’. Earlier that morning, I was running errands alone. I pulled into a grocery store without thinking. That’s all it took. Horrified, my husband said, ‘You’ve got to stop. Emily, you need help.’ He breathalyzed me daily while taking away all access to money. I was greeted by judgmental preschool moms. These were the same women who cooked dinners every week for my husband and kids while I was gone.”
“There were several times this week my mom said something about death, dying, a funeral, or a body. One time, she actually said, ‘He’s just going to throw my body in the water.’ Does she know something?”
“I was jolted awake at 3:00 in the morning. I panicked and quickly made my way into the hotel bathroom. I had no control. I started to shake and whisper, ‘Please save my baby.’ He was so tiny, and was so incredibly loved. I started to weep as I stared at his precious little being, realizing what had just happened to me. I finally called my husband. I’ll never forget the broken-hearted look in his sweet, hazel eyes.”
“Let me just say, I haven’t had a drink in 16 years, but I wanted a drink today. I wanted one real bad. Listen: I love my daughter, but other people’s kids are a bit much.”
“I’m only 25. Married with two kids at 23. And boom, surprise! We were pregnant again! My husband was downstairs playing on his phone… relaxing. ‘Babe….’ Silence. The look on his face – pure disbelief. I get a call. ‘We have a 3-month-old, very preemie baby girl, ready to be discharged and on oxygen.’ My first thought was, ‘There is no way we can handle this.’ I knew my husband wasn’t going to be on board.”
“After putting the pizza in the oven, I checked my phone to see if the babysitter had texted me. No text, so I decided to scroll Facebook for a minute or two. There it was. A simple post. It couldn’t be true. My heart started beating. Immediately I called my dad, but no answer.”
“We were getting ready for a nice picnic at the park. Suddenly, the right side of his body went stiff. His oxygen dropped. First firefighters, then paramedics. Our house was full of first responders. ‘Why is nothing working?!’ I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. I wanted him to live. I held my breath.”
“No one appreciates your half-arsery, my dear ones. Get it done right the first time, and I’ll look less like a crazy person with smoke coming out of my ears. Doesn’t that sound good? You can do this. I have faith in you.”
“I wrote the single hardest thing: ‘I don’t like being a parent.’ His meltdowns consist of screaming, hitting, throwing, breaking things, slamming doors, spitting, you name it. I have to restrain him. I poured my heart out, frustrated, at my wits end. Then I got a message. ‘I think your son has PANDAS/PANS. Have him tested.’ Then the warning came: Some people don’t believe in this diagnosis.”