“Our daughter has been placed in protective custody,’ my husband said. Then I find out I’m pregnant. I’m deep into my addiction – 95 pounds and shooting heroin multiples times a day. I tell my OBGYN. This was a rock bottom plea for help. Addiction crept into my life so quietly I didn’t notice until it was far too late.”
“There is a dirty little secret hiding behind the curtain. You are not the only one who crashes at the end of the day and needs everything to be silent, easy and invisible, so you can just BINGE OREOS IN PEACE FOR TWO FREAKING MINUTES.”
“She came over and automatically opened my laundry room door. She went into my bedroom to make sure my bed was made. Then she made her way into my kitchen and checked my sink to make sure I had done the dishes. She gave me the once-over before we sat down to catch up.”
“I wish I could have told my innocent and naive self to buckle up because that was only the beginning. Once we got the diagnosis, I remember foolishly feeling giddy. Like finally we have the answer and now it will be fine. This will all be okay. Like I said, foolish.”
“I was at Costco with my little crew when a woman approached me about my growing bump. I usually try to ‘kill them with kindness.’ She noticed our four girls and our son, whom we adopted 3 years prior. She made a joke he was the only boy, then shifted her attention to what gender THIS baby would be.”
“I remember her concentrating on a certain part of my shirt, of course, I was scared. I never made it seem as if she was alone in this journey.”
“Pretty soon meltdowns over crayons will turn into breakups, heartbreak, sex, or even depression.”
“I’d express my concern at every follow up, but the doctor assured me everything was healing well. So, I ignored my intuition. The pain persisted. Years later, I looked through hashtags on Instagram, and everything finally made sense. I had discovered it. Instantly I knew.”
“I thought that would be it. I was wrong. What is a mundane task to many is a big deal around here.”
“He’d gone back to trace the footprints of my babies, Leonor and Buchanan, both stillbirths. I was wondering what was taking so long, and started to worry my tattoo couldn’t be done. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m crazy,’ he said. ‘But my grandmother’s name was Leonor Buchanan. She just passed.’ I looked at him in complete shock.”
