“’How could I have bone cancer at age 25?!’ I called my mom immediately after, sobbing in my car. She was shocked. I was finally able to get married after delaying my wedding, but I still had persistent pain. The surgeon said, ‘We cannot be sure if some cancer was left behind.’. It taught me to cherish every day I have on this earth. Things can change in a blink of an eye.”
“We were awaiting my son Jesse’s arrival for a big celebration. Instead, the Marines met me. ‘Your son’s been killed.’ He died driving home, on the same highway, in the same state where his father died 14 years earlier. I could sense Jesse saying, ‘Okay, God, I’ll go with You, but don’t let my mama hurt.’ I immediately felt a tangible peace cover me.”
“Before I came out, Shannon and I decided to try for another baby. I got approved by the Marine Corps to begin my transition and started hormone therapy. Soon after, we announced we were pregnant. At 2 a.m., Shannon and I were getting ready to have our baby. We thought we had plenty of time. I walked into the bathroom and noticed blood in the water. She told me, ‘We aren’t going anywhere. Call 911.’ One push later, our baby slid into my arms. We were all smiles and shellshock.”
“My mom threw me a diaper shower. A few weeks later, a woman approached me in church. ‘Do you know where I live?’ she asked. I told her I did. She went on to tell me her address. She thought since she hadn’t received a thank you letter yet, I didn’t have the right address or it somehow got lost in the mail.”
“The saddest part is, I know he wants to stop this. I’ve attended too many funerals of good kids who couldn’t win against this monster. I’ve lost my son, but there hasn’t been a funeral. He is no longer there. I can see him, yet I mourn for him every day. It hurts. I want a do over. I want a second chance to protect him from this monster. I want my son back.”
“During birth, the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck. In order to save my life, the doctor had to act fast. My mom’s tailbone was broken. Then like any other mom, she diligently looked over my body and immediately noticed a hole above my own tailbone. The doctors told her, ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’ But at 7 days old, I had a temperature of 104 degrees. As I grew, so did the tumor. It tightly wrapped around my bladder and kidneys, slowly killing me.”
“She’s our wild child. We are at a loss when it comes to how to parent her. She has pushed me to tears with the many ways I feel I’m failing her as amother. And yet, she’s amazing. She will not and cannot bend to our will. She refuses to be anything but herself. That is the kind of strength I only wish I could find within myself.”
“I said to him, ‘Pup, it’s ok if you can’t make it to the wedding.’ I’d think, ‘I’ll never have a photo of me and Pup in my wedding dress. I’ll never have the opportunity to eat my wedding dinner with him. He’ll never meet my children.’ I hit the lowest low I ever had. Before my husband and I walked down the aisle, I couldn’t help but feel like Pup was there. I said to my now husband, ‘He’s here. I can feel it.’ My husband grabbed my hand. ‘I know.’”
“After 6 months of trying, we had more negative tests than I could count. I was told I had two large cysts on my ovaries. ‘Keep trying. If in 6 months, you still aren’t pregnant, call me.’ Our bones are laced with grief.”
“I see you at the school drop-off. Sometimes, we exchange a little smile, an ‘I get it.’ But more often, you don’t see me. You’re chasing your toddler down the aisles, watching your pre-schooler like a hawk as she climbs a little too high, or reaching for a wet wipe. Up on the hill are the shiny twentysomethings selfie-snapping, rested, and toned. Magnificently oblivious to what is coming their way. They don’t even see us. Or if they do, they swear they will never be us.”
