“There were a lot of conversations where I would literally tell him, ‘You don’t love me.’ On this rainy April day, I had finally worn him down. ‘No,’ I thought.”
- Love What Matters
- Children
“There were a lot of conversations where I would literally tell him, ‘You don’t love me.’ On this rainy April day, I had finally worn him down. ‘No,’ I thought.”
“My Auntie came out of the ward, face pale and sick. I started saying ‘no no no no’. She told me I needed to sit down, and I collapsed to the floor. We were ushered into a small, hot side room.”
“We got to our seats on the flight and he pulled out his phone. He was doing what we all do. He wanted to take photos for his wife and his daughter to keep them, but he was too embarrassed because of all the fancy businessmen who might see it and judge him.”
“I was bullied for looking different. I would get called ‘inside out girl,’ a ‘freak’ and ‘alien.’ It got nastier, telling me everyone would be happier if I was dead, and that I should kill myself.”
“My husband inquired about the bruising. He was told that, ‘babies just bruise easily,’ and the bump was just a birthmark. Our minds were filled with fear and uncertainty and our stomachs were in knots. Feelings of anger crept up inside of me.”
“She said, ‘When your husband comes home from work, and you’ve been running around with the kids all day, you expect him to come home and help you, and when he doesn’t, you’re angry. I rolled my eyes and thought… ‘Yeah, I know.’ She smacked me.”
“I suspect most parents have an inner radar that measures the character of others by the way they treat our children, but this is especially true for those of us who are parents of children with special needs.”
“At 10:30 in the morning my husband called me from my school’s parking lot. He was there to pick me up. I collapsed in front of my students and wept. Two 14-year-old girls picked me up off the floor and walked me out of my school. He was loved. He was wanted. He was needed. I needed him.”
“I smiled on cue. I showed up to play dates. I dressed my kids well. But I kept all the other stuff hidden. I opened a private Instagram account and used it as a journal, as a means to post the not-so-pretty. I felt so icky about my half-truth life. I was shaking as I hit the button to make it public.”
“They were out of all other options. Phoenix was bleeding into his lungs, and they couldn’t figure out a way to stop it. The nurse was calling other hospitals to figure out an accurate dose of medical cocaine to administer. What?? This can’t be happening!”