“Once Noah was born, the whole room was creepily quiet. Finally, one of the doctors said, ‘It looks like the baby may have a disability.’ Suddenly, the family I thought would love him didn’t even want him because he wasn’t ‘perfect.’ Neither did the next. Then, we found Jerene. ‘Are you interested in a special needs adoption? We have a baby boy who needs a family like, yesterday!’ Already 5 children of her own, her response was, ‘Why not?’ I was bawling.”
“There were 12 of us under one roof and not enough to go around. I remember braiding one of my classmate’s hair, in order to make some extra cash. I sat and wondered what her life was like.”
“I remember sitting on my kitchen floor crying. ‘Most children with this condition lead normal lives.’ My world was caving in. I was a carrier. I caused my baby to have such a horrible condition.”
“I knew our family was complete, but I felt longing to be pregnant again. I wanted to bring joy to someone else. ‘Your blood pressure is elevated. You need medication.’ I was crushed. Everything I dreamed seemed to be over.”
“What the people at church did to me was beyond what I even knew until MANY years later. I was a good kid. But I look at it differently now. I wasn’t bad; I had an illness.”
“I was afraid to touch my husband. Nothing could prepare me for seeing my life partner, my love, on a ventilator because of how desperately I wanted to have a baby. This surgery was supposed to ‘help’ us.”
“The nurses wheeled me into the cold, brightly lit operating room. Two days later, I awoke in the ICU surrounded by wires, beeping machines, and a picture of my baby I hadn’t even met. The birth of our first child was also the day I almost lost my life.”
“I froze and stared at him. It hurt to leave him. We were so close to having him forever. We returned home and waited. What we did not know was about a month after we came home, our second son was born.”
“Tears streamed down my mother’s face as she begged them to stop. As I stood outside the place that defined my existence, my vision blurred. ‘I have to be strong,’ I thought, looking on at my 6 younger siblings, averting my eyes to hide my watery gaze. A family of 9, we were forced into a one-bedroom Motel 6. The eviction robbed more than just my shelter.”
“Who would be calling at this time of night? ‘Would you be interested in taking them?’ Your heart quickens and your breath deepens, both to an uncomfortable level. ‘Three kids? Really?’ You feel obligated to say yes.”
