“Barring the dangerous, we would not say a word. Nothing. No emotion. Silence. Instead of avoiding a festival or a park because, what if he has a meltdown in public, we say ‘Yes.'”
- Love What Matters
- Children
“Barring the dangerous, we would not say a word. Nothing. No emotion. Silence. Instead of avoiding a festival or a park because, what if he has a meltdown in public, we say ‘Yes.'”
“Today being a special, celebratory event for my munchkins, I probably could have (and maybe should have) dressed up a bit, or at least not looked so wrecked. But, I didn’t.”
“I felt my blood boiling. ‘Was this your plan all along? Mooch off me while you do NOTHING all day.’ He followed me into the bedroom. Nothing could have prepared me. I felt an instant, excruciating pain. ‘You will never have a penny from me, you pathetic gold-digger,’ he said.”
“My husband said, ‘I tried calling Ben, but he’s not answering. That’s not normal. Someone should go check on him.’ Ben has heart problems, he’s elderly. ‘I have a really bad feeling about this.’ They were not going to go inside because they knew he kept a loaded pistol next to the bed.”
“I had a top loading washer and always let Ollie help me throw a few items in – don’t most moms let their kids help? I called his name. No answer. Silence. Nothing. The air began to be very thick. How could this have happened with me only 15 feet away, in the same house?!”
“Someone I love dearly timidly asked, ‘Did he do those things regularly?’ I considered keeping his secret. I chose not to disclose WHY he died. I told people, tight-lipped, ‘He died in his sleep.’ I held onto the shame and guilt. ‘I’ll do this for you,’ I thought.”
“We were looking into adoption. It was dicey. Their mom was doing JUST enough to make it seem like she was on track to get them home, but barely. And then we got the news. We didn’t think much of the warning signs.”
“A text comes to me about 11:24. It reads, ‘Are you at work? Can you call me?’ Abigail’s mother no longer wanted to be around me. I was a reminder of our trauma. It was devastating because now I feel completely erased from her life as if nothing ever happened. I constantly dream of the family that almost was.”
“They think I’m not grateful because God forbid, I complain. Every night I’m always the last one. It’s scary being in charge. And it’s hard to admit it. Sometimes I want to give it all up.”
”When Joshua was born, there was no cry. His umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and the doctor had to pry it off piece by piece. The second I saw him, I knew. At that moment, everything changed.”