“’How could I have bone cancer at age 25?!’ I called my mom immediately after, sobbing in my car. She was shocked. I was finally able to get married after delaying my wedding, but I still had persistent pain. The surgeon said, ‘We cannot be sure if some cancer was left behind.’. It taught me to cherish every day I have on this earth. Things can change in a blink of an eye.”
“We were awaiting my son Jesse’s arrival for a big celebration. Instead, the Marines met me. ‘Your son’s been killed.’ He died driving home, on the same highway, in the same state where his father died 14 years earlier. I could sense Jesse saying, ‘Okay, God, I’ll go with You, but don’t let my mama hurt.’ I immediately felt a tangible peace cover me.”
“I was living with a very dangerous individual. With him gone, the nightmare became more real. I felt unsafe in the house. You can’t change locks on a shared ownership home. One day, I came home to find my bed had disappeared, along with all the mirrors. He would not stop until he had destroyed everything. The house was repossessed and I received a Christmas card from him. ‘Hope you and your sons are cold on the streets this Christmas. Here’s hoping you prosper.’”
“My mom threw me a diaper shower. A few weeks later, a woman approached me in church. ‘Do you know where I live?’ she asked. I told her I did. She went on to tell me her address. She thought since she hadn’t received a thank you letter yet, I didn’t have the right address or it somehow got lost in the mail.”
“When people ask me, ‘What is it like to live in the hospital?’ the first images that come to my mind are your faces and your hands. You listen and teach. You take the time to help us understand. You bring me coffee and chocolate. You look me in the eye when you give good or bad news. I have never been more honored to witness anyone fulfill their calling in life. I am on sacred ground with you.”
“I slowly opened my eyes when I heard my name being called. ‘Yvette, you’re next!’ I was lying on a cold, stone bench in a room with a bunch of other girls. My head was pounding. I quickly realized I was still intoxicated from the night before. A guard opened the door and escorted me down a hall. It was then I caught a glimpse of my reflection…in an orange jumpsuit. Who was this person staring back at me? I did not recognize her.”
“During birth, the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck. In order to save my life, the doctor had to act fast. My mom’s tailbone was broken. Then like any other mom, she diligently looked over my body and immediately noticed a hole above my own tailbone. The doctors told her, ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’ But at 7 days old, I had a temperature of 104 degrees. As I grew, so did the tumor. It tightly wrapped around my bladder and kidneys, slowly killing me.”
“She’s our wild child. We are at a loss when it comes to how to parent her. She has pushed me to tears with the many ways I feel I’m failing her as amother. And yet, she’s amazing. She will not and cannot bend to our will. She refuses to be anything but herself. That is the kind of strength I only wish I could find within myself.”
“I said to him, ‘Pup, it’s ok if you can’t make it to the wedding.’ I’d think, ‘I’ll never have a photo of me and Pup in my wedding dress. I’ll never have the opportunity to eat my wedding dinner with him. He’ll never meet my children.’ I hit the lowest low I ever had. Before my husband and I walked down the aisle, I couldn’t help but feel like Pup was there. I said to my now husband, ‘He’s here. I can feel it.’ My husband grabbed my hand. ‘I know.’”
“I see you at the school drop-off. Sometimes, we exchange a little smile, an ‘I get it.’ But more often, you don’t see me. You’re chasing your toddler down the aisles, watching your pre-schooler like a hawk as she climbs a little too high, or reaching for a wet wipe. Up on the hill are the shiny twentysomethings selfie-snapping, rested, and toned. Magnificently oblivious to what is coming their way. They don’t even see us. Or if they do, they swear they will never be us.”
