“Nothing fit right. My mom brought me to the ‘husky’ section. ‘What does husky mean?’ She said, ‘It’s for boys like you.’ BOOM. There it was. It wasn’t what she said. It was how she said it, in an almost hush, as if it was something embarrassing to be discussed.”
“We air-toasted our warm drinks in one another’s direction and voiced pleasantries across the cobblestones. The soft notes of Christmas music played through those open windows. You have no idea the impact even the smallest gesture can make.”
“Her growth began to slow. ’Rare but not unheard of’ became my life story. My daughter’s heart was giving up. ‘This is really hard news. But you can do this.’ It was exactly what I needed to hear.”
“His son never wanted to see us again. He loves video games and changed his name to ‘leaving.’ He was hurting and did not know how to express it. When we called their phone, no one answered.”
“We experienced the trauma of being ripped away from our mom, as well as each other, and we were forced to live with families we didn’t know. I grew up sooner than I expected.”
“She was my sin who couldn’t be hidden from others. ‘Is this my punishment for how she was brought into the world?’ But I no longer want to hide. She is my reminder to choose LIFE.”
“The surgeries were risky, and many didn’t make it through. None guaranteed survival.”
“I spent 3 days wide awake because I couldn’t stop hallucinating giant, juicy spiders crawling over me. I had to sleep with my feet in ice buckets. My skin felt like it was on fire. This was all ‘normal’ in the chemo world.”
“She’d bang her head on the walls and bite her fingers until she broke skin. We left playdates early. ‘I’m getting concerned.’ More and more signs popped up. I KNEW this wasn’t typical toddler behavior.”
“I found a tiny, one-bedroom apartment and we ate dinner with dollar store utensils. Our lawyers were mean. We were mean. I cried in the shower a lot. I wasn’t going back. I wasn’t going to feel guilty for showing my daughter what type of love she deserved too.”
