A 2016 study noted we touch our cell phones 2,617 times a day.
“I was 20, homeless, and spiraling out of control. I never imagined myself as ‘that girl’ who got pregnant. I’d known the father for a month and had no clear future ahead of me. ‘I’m so sorry I could not be ready for you,’ I kept telling my son. 48 hours. That is how long he was ours. I wanted this stranger in my stomach to have a chance at life.”
“I’d rather be blind than dependent on drugs. It took losing my sight to get me back on the right path.”
“I kiss her and say, ‘I love you.’ She is quiet. I stay close and wait. Nothing. I am afraid to move. Afraid I won’t hear her say her words to me.”
“I found myself sobbing on the bathroom floor. Everyone around me seemed to sneeze on command, get pregnant, and deliver a baby. But why couldn’t we?”
“My grief is not gone. My grief did not end when the first 365 days came and went. My grief is still raw. It is still painful. And it is still very present.”
“Please don’t forget to show up when you can, reach out when you have a minute, and sit quietly with us in our grief, even if it’s now different.”
“She tells all her friends that I built it for her and that ‘I can do anything.’ That’s the best part.”
“On that day, in that church, there was no black or white, there was just love, and man…. there was SO much of it.”
“To the parents involved, they mean so much more than just the art. They represent their journey through parenthood, sweet baby memories, and fleeting moments. A precious part of their lives that only they know.”
“I am still in shock that our little boy was sleeping on my lap, throwing the football, running around with the dog and just starting to show as being sick. And today he is on life support,” his mother wrote when the harrowing ordeal began.