“She’s scared, and she was afraid that we were mad at her. She’s also confused, because she didn’t eat any peanuts, and doesn’t understand why this happened to her. This will most likely trigger anxiety for her, and hopefully, she won’t be afraid to go back to school.”
“At most high schools, the football team is applauded and admired while the marching band is made fun of. The halftime show is their chance, for a few minutes, to be cheered on. Please DO cheer. Their formations are equivalent to touchdowns. They march, practice, and give up summer free time in 90-degree heat to get their ‘game’ ready, too. There’s no ‘marching band madness.’ The newspaper won’t give a run-down of their show. The halftime show IS their big moment.”
“Each day I came home, more things were missing. Not just random papers. I’m talking, MY stuff. When questioned, I got, ‘I’m doing what needs to be done, don’t question me.’ I was like his child, not his wife. I married a full-blown narcissist. Ugh, I finally said it. I couldn’t live like that anymore. There was no sign of life, it didn’t feel like a home. So I left – 6 months pregnant with two small children in tow.”
“I noticed my brother kept ‘falling asleep’ while talking to me. He tried to explain it away, but I knew he was lying. ‘You’re nodding out, James. Are you high?’ He finally put his head in his hands and started to cry, shaking his head yes. ‘I learned how to shoot up.’ I was devastated. Now, I must listen to his playlist to feel closer to him. My baby brother is gone.”
“‘Are y’all going to be at court tomorrow?’ she asks. ‘Yes ma’am, of course,’ I quickly reply. ‘Little Man’s birth mom was wondering if you’d be willing to speak with her.’ This was not what I expected to hear. ‘Sure, no problem. See you there,’ I told her. I nervously pondered. The ride on the elevator is quiet. I hear the ‘thump’ of flip flops down the hall. I look to my right, and see his birth mom walking down the long hallway. Here it goes.”
“The look in your eyes said you were already gone. Your family wept, told us to keep trying. They didn’t want to let you leave. So, we continued on. Medications. Shocks. Pumps. Sweat poured down my face. I tried to hide my tears by staring at my shoelaces. We watched the life leave your body and go to a place none of us know or understand. We tried so hard to save you. We just couldn’t do it that day.”
“We cried, touching him gently. The room was filled with silence. ‘What color would you like Noah’s casket?’ ‘What outfit will he be buried in?’ I struggled to answer. I couldn’t stop thinking, ‘I’m not supposed to be making these decisions. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children.’ We celebrate his twin brother Liam as we grieve Noah. But death is not the end. We will see Noah in heaven some day.”
“When I asked IF the length of my daughter’s skirt affected her education and ability to learn, I was told, ‘Yes.’ When I asked HOW, I was told, ‘School policy.’ I pointed to 3 staff members wearing shorter skirts than my daughter. She looked at me dumbfounded and didn’t answer. This isn’t about my daughter or her school. This isn’t a child issue, or even a parents issue. This is SO MUCH more than being about ‘just a skirt.'”
“I remember hearing someone scream ‘say something, say something!’ and all I could say was ‘help.’ I remember him running over to me and saying ‘I have help on the way, it’s going to be okay.’ I don’t remember anything after that.”
“When I was younger, I wanted to be everything. Smartest, prettiest, funniest… I desired to be the total package. I yearned to be the best possible version of myself. Quite frankly, it was exhausting.”
