“Duties that were once his, were now solely mine. I struggled to keep a 6-week and 2-year old alive. All I saw was a father tagging along, bringing much less value to his family than he once did before.”
- Love What Matters
- Children
“Duties that were once his, were now solely mine. I struggled to keep a 6-week and 2-year old alive. All I saw was a father tagging along, bringing much less value to his family than he once did before.”
“‘I’m going to hold your legs down until you calm down because you’re hurting me when you kick.’ Our neighbors were still watching. It’s shameful, embarrassing, and humiliating. He screamed and kicked and fought. I could feel my anxiety creeping in.”
“I snapped the traditional well-check picture of my daughter sitting on the exam table, bragging about our healthy girl. We were about to walk out with a good bill of health when the doctor asked me if I had any concerns. That’s when I remembered her large tummy. He laid her down on the exam table, and his face quickly changed to reflect my concern.”
“The panic attacks soon turned into rages. His hands turned into claws, his face changed and looked evil. He was foaming at the mouth, hitting the glass oven door over and over, and growling. I wrapped my body around his and we sat on the kitchen floor as he thrashed and growled, tears running down my face as I held him.”
“We found a surrogate. The doctor started to gush about how lovely she was! ‘You have to woo her and make sure she picks you guys!’ Communication was sparse. We were constantly checking emails. I’ll never forget my husband kneeling as he opened one eagerly awaited message. He stared at the computer screen, speechless.”
“He let me sleep in. Imagine my shock waking up at 10 a.m. to not a sound in the world. Not the pitter patter of little feet, not the tugging of my sheets followed by, ‘mom, mom, mom,’ not the sounds of cartoons. I yawned, threw my hair into a messy bun and made my way downstairs thinking I would find an empty house or sleeping angel children. I didn’t find that.”
“I desperately breathe air into my child. Medics rush in. Suddenly, I hear voices, machines. I’m listening for that cry I know. Everything pauses. They wrap her in a soft white blanket, slowly walking towards me as if presenting a gift. I push back, pleading with tears. I beg the doctors to try just a little longer.”
“I loved you fiercely far before I knew you. She sat on that bed holding you, her tears falling onto your perfect self as she fed you one last time. The room’s air was thick as molasses. And then, she placed you in my arms, and I melted all over the floor.”
“Now you’re left exhausted, thinking what the hell did we just do? Am I an imposter because I failed? I flipped my mindset. It felt good to dive into something again, which started with ripping up all the carpet in the upstairs of our house. There was no sense in avoiding a room meant for a nursery when I could change it into a usable space.”
“I rushed to the hospital. The pain was so bad I literally thought, ‘There’s no possible way I am going to survive this. A human being can’t survive this much pain.’ I was prescribed a copious amount of medication. When would I stop needing it? Never. I thought I would never get a chance to be a mom, but I didn’t want to give up my dream.”