“Every time her child went back to playing with my kids, like clockwork the mom came back and told her to stop. This poor child was waiting for her mother to not be paying attention so she could go back to laughing and playing. Enough was enough. ‘Hi, how are you? I just want you to know those little black girls you’re so afraid of, those are MY children.’ She turned beet red.”
“’What a freak. Stay away from that little weird girl.’ People can be cruel. But my husband said, ‘Look at her. You have a beautiful daughter.’ She gives her siblings a run for her money. She is different, not less.”
“My husband told me without hesitation, he’d get a vasectomy. I thought, ‘Yeah sounds good, but we’ll see if he’s really down for the cause when that time comes.’ We prepared for snip snip day by getting him a bag of frozen peas and tight underwear. He was nervous, but ready. My OB knew of our plan, but kept asking, ‘Are you SURE?’”
“‘We aren’t going to be daddies.’ I couldn’t see any hope on the horizon. Then, in the most amazing twist of events, she asked if we’d consider her sister as our surrogate. ‘YES!’ We were blown away. I was jumping. We all sat around the table, and voila! TWO LINES. I shouted, ‘You’re pregnant!’ We did a huge group hug.”
“She provided the most breathtaking comfort I’ve ever received. She showed up and simply said, ‘I know what it’s like to be the first one at the casket.’ I was speechless. Numb. Humbled and heartbroken. The first one at the casket. It was true. I hadn’t thought of it. It was a humble reminder of the honored spot I was standing in.”
“Furniture blocked off the hallway to give us privacy as we said goodbye. I watched my husband hold his son for the first and last time; I’d never seen him so broken. We held his hands and kissed his head, telling him we loved him, he didn’t need to fight any longer. When the doctor pronounced him, I asked her to carry him to the hospital morgue. I couldn’t do it myself. She swaddled him in a blanket, and left.”
“Then came my escape. It was tricky, but I planned it well. My father was dying of brain cancer, and my husband had beaten me for going to my father’s funeral. It was time. I finally had a chance to escape with my child. You are worth fighting for. I need to let others know – there is an escape, a better life.”
“She was born with a head of thick, jet black, fluffy hair! But overnight, her hair came through poker straight, and pure white-blonde. She looked like a newborn, fluffy chick! Her hair looked full of static, wiry, like sheep’s wool. Slowly, it became worse. Hard to control. It got bigger, wilder as she grew, painful to brush. A lady mentioned it, but to be honest, I thought nothing of it. Then I realized it might be a problem.”
“The more severe cases pass away by the age of 1. ‘What? Pass away? Not my child.’ I was devastated I wasn’t going to have the life I imagined. But there is such power in accepting this new life.”
“My 12-year-old daughter appeared in the kitchen after school. She started a conversation the same way she always does – ‘MOM! Guess what?!,’ except this time it wasn’t followed with, ‘Kate likes so-and-so’ or ‘Mrs. O gave us so much homework!’ This time, her face lit up. ‘He told me first!’ I was happy her friend had confided in her, but I was scared for Will. I asked if he’d told his parents yet. The answer was ‘No.’”
