“We traded our passion for the typical American dream. The house, the yard, the white picket fence. It seemed we’d spent all of our time waiting for retirement age, for the kids to grow up, for the house to be paid off. Among all the waiting, there was no time to bring our beautiful dreams into reality.”
“I could hear unkind comments coming from behind and in front of me. I broke down crying and tried to get away as fast as I could. When I got the news, it was a relief to say, ‘This isn’t me trying to be annoying.’ It was uncontrollable.”
“The EMT arrived. ‘You don’t know him, do you?’ I felt totally called out! ‘Well, he’s cute. Maybe you’ll get his number.’ As we chatted, his deep dimples began to show. Once I knew he’d be okay, I checked him out a little more. ‘Okay, he looks kinda tall lying on that stretcher.’ I thought I was helping a stranger. Turns out I was setting myself up to fall deeply in love with the man of my dreams.”
“She cried and brought out the Bible. She read passages aloud while sobbing. She truly believed I was going to hell and she fought tooth and nail to make sure her baby wasn’t going there.”
“The clock reads 5:36. I hear him yell. Blood is trickling from his mouth. Shock. Fear. Confusion. Put him in the car. Stop. No time. He’s not breathing. Cry. Scream. Beg him to breathe. The police are here to question us. Why aren’t they doing anything? It’s too late. We have to plan a funeral. Shortly after, my relationship ends. The burden of a dead baby is too much. I fall asleep crying on my son’s grave frequently. I cannot breathe. I am a disaster trying to maintain normalcy.”
“Just a simple phrase ‘you know if you ever need to talk, I am here’ became the foundation for one of the strongest relationships in my life.”
“Every appointment was in a pink-laced room. Coming to terms with it was difficult enough, but the ostracizing sea of pink ribbons and pink hospital gowns only added to the emasculating nature of it. I felt such guilt in allowing the delay in getting the lump checked.”
“I would hide in vain in my closet. ‘Get up!’ I would tell myself, ‘Get up!’ I wanted to get up; I didn’t want my son to find me like this- to see me like this. But he would and it started to become a regular occurrence.”
“Until I read the caption. I couldn’t stop crying.”
“After a year of living on the street, strangers approached me and said, ‘We want to take you to school.’ Coming from an abusive household, I had never really learned to trust. I said yes, not really sure what I was agreeing to. I had no home, hope, future, and they gave me all of that and more. I knew I wanted to do the same for other kids.”
