“He promised me he would ‘come back’ to send me a wink or two. We never had the conversation again. Immediately after his death, the number ‘149’ kept popping up exactly in the moments I needed it most. My brain kept saying, ‘This can’t be real.’ It just keeps happening.”
“‘Go Big or Go Home!’ his dad told him. Honey, this is supposed to be a fun thing,’ I told him as I brushed back his golden hair. ‘But Mommy, what if I lose?’ he cried. When we arrive at the top of the mountain, he panics. ‘I don’t want to do it, Mommy. I am scared.’ I hear the cries of the crowd, the unmistakable climax of shock, and then silence.”
“My grandmother bled to death. My grandpa was heartbroken. It was a shock for all of us. A freak accident. There was no time to say goodbye or make sure she knew we loved her. When I called my grandpa to let him know I was eloping, his voice immediately perked up. ‘You need THE RING. She always wanted you to have it.’ I never expected it. I never even knew I wanted it. I felt an immense sense of peace wash over.”
“Right now, my daughter is friends with no one. She keeps to herself and sees little interest in gossip or small talk. And that has to do with a little part of her called autism. Include the child who keeps to themselves. The one that’s weird. The one that’s ‘rude.’ Extend an invite to those who are like you, but also those who differ.”
“After delivering my first child at 15, I was left with a body I didn’t recognize – heavier, softer, and covered in stretch marks. I wallowed here. I was molested here. I hid underneath men’s clothes, 2 sizes too big. Anything to deflect sexual attention. I am more than my body, but this vessel is not less important because its existence has been perverted and misused since the beginning of time.”
“You will swear across pillowcases as to whose turn it is to get up. You’ll be busy, yet also feel as if you’re achieving nothing. You will question your identity. You will forget the rain comes before the rainbow. You’ll fall, but keep climbing. There were two people born that day.”
“He said in a gentle voice, ‘Can we talk to you both in the conference room?’ I knew we were going to receive life-changing news. ‘What more could go wrong?’ I wanted to not be me. Most moms dream of that euphoric moment when their precious baby is delivered into their arms. I did too. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the dream. I got the nightmare. The daughter I had dreamed up was gone.”
“I was still a single mom of a boy with autism living in a 2-bedroom apartment. My son was all grown. In comes this short, little peanut with those blue wrap-around glasses, all wide-eyed and ready to go. ‘I want to take him home.’ I couldn’t even get the words out before I started bawling!”
“She looked terrible. Her usually pink skin was a greyish-blue. Her belly was huge and so stretched out, you could see every vein. She wasn’t moving on the operating table. With mascara-stained tears streaming down my cheek, I held on to her a little tighter.”
“The constant thought of, ‘I should just crash my car into a tree,’ kept playing in my mind. I was thinking of every way possible to leave Molly and go back to the way my life once was. I was scared to be left alone with Molly. I didn’t trust myself, and I was scared to admit it to anyone. Scared people would always think of me as ‘the crazy chick that wanted to hurt her baby.'”
