“Emily was only 2 pounds. She was so small my husband’s wedding band fit around her tiny wrist. She was crying, but I could not hear her. It didn’t seem real. Quickly, I was told by nurses, ‘You cannot touch her.’ I felt helpless. With each day, it became more and more evident my marriage was not going to survive this horrific ordeal.”
“My first experience with birth would be giving birth to death. ‘What are you here for?’ ‘A c-section,’ I responded. ‘How exciting! Do you know the sex?’ ‘No, we don’t,’ I said, thinking she should just give me the damn wristband and let me go. ‘Oh, that’s so fun. Congratulations!’ Our doctor said, ‘It’s a GIRL.’ I remember that first look and the love that overcame me.”
“Some drank, some took drugs, some got violent. PTSD takes a thousand forms on a person. I climbed on my motorcycle and hit the road. Faster, another gear, even faster. The dotted lines became a blur. That demon was still there. It gripped me until I could no longer breathe.”
“Young ladies, when you’re starting to pray for a spouse to spend your life with… pray for a man that will carry her down the stairs, to the car and spend all night in the hospital by her side. Because, if he can wake up at 4:30 a.m. on Saturday to hunt… he can wake up at 6:30 on Sunday to lead his family to salvation.”
“I suddenly looked like I had been through 3 wars. My ears got hot, my face was changing colors, and my esophagus started burning. I coughed. ‘He he he he he,’ my Grandma chuckled. I gave her ‘the’ look. The poor guy behind the cheese cart looked at me like l had a few screws loose and asked if I was okay. ‘I’m good. *cough* What’s the other ones?’ I was sweating. My sternum was on fire, but Mamaw didn’t raise no fool.”
“To any woman picking this box up to stare at it in longing, in mourning, in hesitation. To wonder. To wish. To throw it in her shopping cart again this month. Throwing it in with hope. With fear. With premature excitement. With anticipation. With a sense of dread that it may just be another down the drain waste basket Walmart drop of $12.98.”
“‘If you have more children, you could spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair.’ I can still hear those words echoing in my ears. There was no panic. Just calm. They didn’t even come with a photo. We didn’t need a photo to be drawn to the baby boy and his toddler sister looking for their family. They ran right to us and gave us big hugs. They are my babies, they always have been and they always will be.”
“I have spent 3 hours looking up bento boxes, protein to carbohydrate to sugar ratios for those little compartments, and how to make the food look like a happy koala in a tree. Who started this stuff? Who sets the standard like this? Stop it.”
“Our child is not physically sick… he is mentally sick. We see no difference. He needed a hospital. He needs prayers and support. When he returns to school, please treat him like any other friend who just got out of the hospital. High fives full of welcome backs and ‘I’m glad you’re okay.’ Please don’t be afraid to talk.”
“My life was quickly thrown upside down. The love of my life was suddenly killed in a car accident. I handled it with anger and bitterness. The economy began to crumble. I quickly became the best possible cab driver I could be. Shifts were 12 hours long. I pulled my boots up and reinvented myself. Then everything changed again. The ginger ale sat on the kitchen counter, slowly turning into a bomb. At the exact second Shelly passed the sink, the bottle exploded. I was horrified. What a battle it has been.”
