“We started noticing I was in a lot of pain during intercourse. One night, I was in so much pain I couldn’t bear it. I was taken to the ER. They told me I had an ovarian cyst rupture. I had no idea what that meant. They gave me some pain pills and told me to ‘rest.’ I went on like nothing was wrong. My periods were not coming on time. I’d miss an entire month or two. I was dealing with all these emotions while trying to maintain hope. Time was flying by, and I still didn’t have a baby.”
“My first symptom hit like a ton of bricks. I felt heaviness in my chest I couldn’t explain. We had to run to catch our connecting flight. This is the exact moment I knew. I could not run. I WANTED to, but my body wouldn’t let me. I ate well and exercised often, so I knew something was very, very wrong. My friends said it sounded like I was having an anxiety attack. ‘I’m only 32 years old. How can this happen?’ Our lives changed forever.”
“‘She’s going to live, right?’ The doctor looked at me and said words I will never forget… ‘These babies don’t live.’ She handed me a box of rough, thin tissues and left the room. I completely lost all composure and thrashed around that room like I myself was being killed. ‘Not my girl… not my girl…’ I asked Matt, ‘What are we going to do?’ Without a pause, my brave husband said, ‘We’re going to give her a name.’”
“I told both of my children about the time I agreed to kiss a boy in the back of the school yard when I was way too young. How I really, really liked this boy. I told them how mortified I was when friends gathered around us and agreed to cover their eyes, but didn’t. Instead, they watched it all and laughed. Love can make you do stupid things.”
“The doctor sat down and said, ‘I’m so sorry.’ Nurses flooded into the room. I was only 19. ‘I can’t lose my babies.'”
“He said, ‘I can’t do this.’ I drove around aimlessly, hoping I would find him. His mental illness took ahold of him and blurred his vision. I got a late-night call. For the next 7 months, I sobbed to and from every doctor’s appointment, wishing my daughter’s father were by my side.”
“Dirty talk for me as a mother now is looking at my husband like I’m Post Malone (frizzy flyaway hair included) who’s smoked a few too many J’s with the sultriest voice I have and say, ‘I’ve showered today,’ flicking my nana undies at him. And him giving me the nod replying, ‘How tired are you?’”
“I was given a second chance to live.”
“Sometimes during the week, I’ll be exhausted. Just completely worn out from the day. I’ll come home, and Adam will have supper cooked. Usually, I clean up the dishes, and we take turns with baby baths/bedtime routines. But I have a complete pass on responsibilities when I really need it. All I say is, ‘I’m going hunting.’ Adam just smiles and nods.”
“’Really? That’s what you’re going to eat for breakfast?’ I vividly remember holding my two pieces of cinnamon toast in my trembling hands. Every single one of my siblings had already toasted their bread, buttered it, and sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar. Yet, I was the only one singled out by my grandpa. Age 15, I began attending meetings every week with my mother. Strange adult women would applaud and beam at me. I was given jewelry to celebrate my ‘hard work.’ Women twice my age would ask what my ‘secret’ was.”
