“My 16-year-old daughter pointed to each of us. She put out her hand, palm up. No lie, I was confused. Why did she have her hand out? Did she want a high-five? Was she looking for money? There had to be something wrong. She placed them on the table, screen down, and then made eye contact with us. I mean, ACTUAL eye contact. I stared at her, hanging onto every-single-word.”
“I was jolted awake at 3:00 in the morning. I panicked and quickly made my way into the hotel bathroom. I had no control. I started to shake and whisper, ‘Please save my baby.’ He was so tiny, and was so incredibly loved. I started to weep as I stared at his precious little being, realizing what had just happened to me. I finally called my husband. I’ll never forget the broken-hearted look in his sweet, hazel eyes.”
“Let me just say, I haven’t had a drink in 16 years, but I wanted a drink today. I wanted one real bad. Listen: I love my daughter, but other people’s kids are a bit much.”
“I’m only 25. Married with two kids at 23. And boom, surprise! We were pregnant again! My husband was downstairs playing on his phone… relaxing. ‘Babe….’ Silence. The look on his face – pure disbelief. I get a call. ‘We have a 3-month-old, very preemie baby girl, ready to be discharged and on oxygen.’ My first thought was, ‘There is no way we can handle this.’ I knew my husband wasn’t going to be on board.”
“After putting the pizza in the oven, I checked my phone to see if the babysitter had texted me. No text, so I decided to scroll Facebook for a minute or two. There it was. A simple post. It couldn’t be true. My heart started beating. Immediately I called my dad, but no answer.”
“‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. You’ve proved you can’t change to be a nice girl for me.’ Hours later, I found myself bleeding and alone, thrown from the car. Thankfully, a stranger happened upon me. She called the police. The man I had fallen for was gone. Finally, I broke. I was emerging from the nightmare.”
“We were getting ready for a nice picnic at the park. Suddenly, the right side of his body went stiff. His oxygen dropped. First firefighters, then paramedics. Our house was full of first responders. ‘Why is nothing working?!’ I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. I wanted him to live. I held my breath.”
“No one appreciates your half-arsery, my dear ones. Get it done right the first time, and I’ll look less like a crazy person with smoke coming out of my ears. Doesn’t that sound good? You can do this. I have faith in you.”
“I wrote the single hardest thing: ‘I don’t like being a parent.’ His meltdowns consist of screaming, hitting, throwing, breaking things, slamming doors, spitting, you name it. I have to restrain him. I poured my heart out, frustrated, at my wits end. Then I got a message. ‘I think your son has PANDAS/PANS. Have him tested.’ Then the warning came: Some people don’t believe in this diagnosis.”
“I don’t pick out school clothes anymore. There’s no one to nurse to sleep. I can’t remember the last time I cut up spaghetti, blew on soup because it was too hot. When they need socks now, they find them. And when they’re hungry? They grab their own snack. There were so many times I wished for these days. Now, I’m standing smack dab in the middle of them, grieving the past.”
