“I now had a 4-year-old, a 2-year-old, and I was newly divorced. ‘How were you able to give up the baby?’ I felt like I signed my life away. They needed to make sure I wasn’t going to go crazy.”
- Love What Matters
- Family
“I now had a 4-year-old, a 2-year-old, and I was newly divorced. ‘How were you able to give up the baby?’ I felt like I signed my life away. They needed to make sure I wasn’t going to go crazy.”
“When I get home, all his things are gone. Like he was never there. I don’t make it two steps past the house door. I lay there and I cry. I cannot move. I cannot breathe. I do not want to be here. This is going to kill me.”
“My friends were planning their future prince charming and the number of kids they want when they grow up. I scratched my head and proceeded to tell them about the countries I wanted to visit. I always hoped my ‘maternal instincts’ would finally kick in.”
“For 5 years you’ve never left the kids to cry. You never want them to be alone. I did that wild scream you did. I know where it comes from now.”
“I laid in the doctor’s office. Brandon stood there recording the whole thing, expecting to document the most exciting moment of our lives. She started asking me strange questions that seemed crazy at the time. It wasn’t until days later it hit me.”
“I didn’t know that all the days of you asking me for my time, would turn into me asking you for yours. I didn’t know how fast the years would fly by.”
“I thought the bullying would stop when my mom died of cancer, but it returned full force. I remember being yanked off my feet by my ponytail, blood running down my leg. I still wasn’t good enough, so I dropped out. When I returned to school at 31, a mother of 3 kids, I thought the same failure awaited me again. I was absolutely terrified.”
“We went to bed, said our ‘I love you’s.’ Exhausted. He rubbed my back as I drifted off to sleep. At 5:00 a.m., I awoke to use the bathroom. I guess he couldn’t sleep? He wasn’t in bed. He must be downstairs. The TV wasn’t on. No living room lights. Just a faint glow from the bottom of the bathroom door. I couldn’t save him.”
“We were excited and broken. For much of my pregnancy, I struggled knowing that my baby would never meet the greatest man ever. He had this thing where he nicknamed each child on delivery day. Pistol, Bullet, Slug, and Cricket. There was so much anticipation for him to walk into that delivery room and call him by his ‘name’.”
“In third grade, we moved. I thought it was so fancy! Surely nothing bad can happen in the suburbs. I slept over at my friend’s house one night, and was woken by something startling. I froze, I didn’t know what to do. I started to silently cry. ‘Why isn’t my friend waking up? If she wakes up he will stop.'”