“I genuinely thought it would all be fine. I ate a healthy diet, was fit and healthy. I just couldn’t believe it. I was in a trance. Numb. There was yet another tumor, in a third place. I rang the cancer helpline. I tried to speak, but just cried. The poor person on the end just listened to me sob for 15 minutes without a break. I needed to get it all out of my system.”
“I was in pajamas by 4 p.m., my hair had questionable things in it, and I had on a stained sweater I probably should have washed a few days ago. My husband got home and walked in on me cooking burnt grilled cheese, for the third time. I threw my hands up in the air. ‘I give up!’ I thought I would be better at this whole mom and wife thing. But the truth is, I am doing my best.”
“’I’ll just take him to the living room,’ I said to my sister who was in mid-conversation, talking about what it’s like being a new mom. That was when my grandmother spoke. In one line she had evaluated my situation—single, 36, unmarried—and concluded my childless fate. What was my life? I thought I’d done everything right.”
“I sat on the floor of my balcony thinking about how I could hang myself but not wanting to do it for the sake of everyone outside. ‘This is all just a game.’ I missed a metal railing by a few inches and went straight into a ditch. I flipped 7 times, hit a tree and went airborne. The next thing I knew I was saying, ‘Jason? Jason, please don’t leave me.’ I was in a full-blown conversation with him. He was in the same white gown that I said goodbye to him at his funeral. ‘Cass, you are not alone, but you need to go back.’”
“We had just lost the squirrel and the hamster the week before – I just didn’t feel like the kids could handle yet another death. ‘Hi, I have a prescription to pick up,’ I said. ‘Patient name?’ the cashier nonchalantly asked. ‘Ummmmm Cockadoodledoo Evans?’ I responded. ‘Um, ok birthdate?’ she asked. ‘Ma’am I’m not really sure, it’s a chicken,’ I said.”
“My new daughter sleeping should be a scene of total peace, and yet it’s terrifying. The ugly, hateful words swirl in my mind. ‘Life can’t really be good again, can it?’ ‘If something happens to her, then everyone will know what an awful mother you are.’ Child loss leads you to a crossroads—a choice between becoming bitter or becoming better.”
“’My gut feelings usually are never wrong, especially about our children.’ I could not shake the sense that there were complications with the baby. ‘I believe there is something wrong with your baby’s head.’ I never once thought our sweet girl would die. She was perfect. I’ll never forget the weight of her laying on my chest. We read her stories and left her cheeks wet from tears. Her sister and brother got to meet her and love her.”
“Her brown curls bounced as she ran up to me with a smile on her face. She eagerly handed me a picture she drew that day. It was a colorful winter scene with penguins skating on a pond with the date 12/14. When my husband returned, he passed by the drawing, stopped and started counting. ‘Did you see what I saw?’ He pointed to the stars in the sky she had drawn. I counted them. Exactly 26.”
“I have a toddler at home who I will not be able to take to get his picture with Santa. I will not be able to take him to see all the pretty Christmas lights. I sat in the shower and let the water run down my body as I cried. Then demons creep in. ‘It was boring getting high at home, taking care of a toddler all day. It would be fun to stay at a motel and just get high. I just want to do it ONE MORE TIME.’ I’m riddled with guilt. I’m so ashamed.”
“Brother is crying. I get mad. I yell. Sister is crying now. The sneakers I tripped over at bedtime have somehow separated and one is completely gone. Vaporized! EFFFFF!!!! We are now 10 minutes late. ‘Why is this room like this?!’ I yell at the top of my lungs. I carry this anger for the rest of the day.”
