“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.”
“I had never smoked a cigarette, never drank a beer, never had a real boyfriend. I was a naïve, 17-year-old virgin. I went to a party with my friends. I paid the guy at the door $5 dollars. ‘The punch is in the kitchen. Don’t lose your cup.’ I was found on steps, lying in a pool of vomit. I fell off the Dean’s List. Then I met the man I would marry. I had a front-row seat to the most terrifying horror show imaginable. I was penniless, homeless, trickin’ on Main South for a 40 piece.”
“My doctor told me, ‘Your weight is why you lost your baby.’ I was destroyed. My weight was the reason my marriage ended and it was also the reason I miscarried. My ex-husband even went as far to accuse me of making up the entire pregnancy. I lost my love, my child, and myself that year.”
“Unsolicited, I have been ‘advised’ on my body art. I’ve been asked, in horror, ‘What will you tell your kids?’ I’ll tell them what my tattoos mean to me, and when they’re older, they can get tattoos if they want them. ‘You’re inviting people to judge you.’ Actually no, I’m not. ‘Can you get a job with those?’ Firstly, none of your business. Secondly, yes. Then there are the people who find my tattoos TOO appealing. ‘Where ELSE are you inked?’ ‘So, you like pain, huh?’ ‘Wanna see MY tattoo?’ Seriously, be less sleazy.”
“I woke up with blood-shot eyes. Everything was a blur. ‘This is going to go away. It can’t get worse.’ This is when my eyesight started to deteriorate. Here I was, 26 years old, a month before my dream wedding day. I had the most beautiful wedding dress, and desperately wanted to look good in my wedding photos. ‘How could this be happening to me?’ I was so angry at the world.”
“I am not a good cook or a great hostess. I often wonder if I’m doing it all right. You’ll find me making bulk Mac and Cheese in gym shorts and t-shirts, un-showered or made up. The couch is sometimes dirty and it gets too crowded at times. And yet, no one cares. All anyone really needs is a heart that says, ‘Welcome, you’re important here.’ THAT is the gift you offer when you open up your home.”
“As my belly grew, I began being asked the ‘Is this your first?’ question by anyone, from the cashier at Target to the waitress while out for dinner. My answer was, ‘No, this is my second. My first child died.’ You could tell by the uncomfortable look on their faces that my response was always unexpected, met with pity and also toxic positivity. I already WAS a mother.”
“I was incarcerated at age 12. I sold all my parents’ electronics and disappeared. By the end of the night, I injected heroin into my arm.”
