“He left me at 10:30 p.m. on a cold Sunday night. You allowed my husband a place to stay, accepting him with open arms. You didn’t say anything to him, knowing he was using drugs. Everyone coddled him. Truth is, you all abandoned me. I was a part of your family for 11 years – and I was written off.”
“I was that mom, too. With the busy fingers. Googling all the things wrong with my child because he would. not. sleep. Everyone and their mom told me something was WRONG with him. So, I OBSESSED. Don’t co-sleep. Co-sleep. Don’t sleep train. Sleep train. No night feed. Night feed. Oh holy night, guys. ENOUGH. We don’t need a dependent little munchkin that will roll into med school with a binkie and a lovey. Some. Babies. Don’t. Sleep.”
“As the days passed, he couldn’t eat or sleep. Then came the shocking weight loss. This body I once knew was now all bones and sharp edges. I could see his ribs through his t-shirt. ‘We see a large mass,’ the doctor informed us. I cried silent tears. I could no longer touch any part of him, except his hands. Everything hurt too much. We were no longer laughing. We were hoping for one more day.”
“There was never a break. Being a single mom was time-consuming as is, add in juggling three small businesses and attempting to figure out how to heal in the midst of it all. Comparison knocked on my door frequently in the beginning.”
“‘Would you be interested in adopting your foster daughter?’ For me, it wasn’t a question. The first day she walked into our house, she was home. Every day they would ask, ‘Is today our adoption day?’ But we then hit a bump in the road. I tried to keep my emotions in check. I can only describe Katherine’s journey as a roller coaster. But she is safe, she is loved, and she is home.”
“It’s a strange thing to accept your mortality at 26 years young. I imagined myself growing old and wrinkled, building a beautiful family with the love of my life. I want that so bad it hurts. Instead, I’m watching my body waste away right before my eyes with nothing I can do about it. All I wish for now is one more birthday, one more Christmas, with my family, partner, and dog. Just one more.”
“He showed up at my house. I was convinced I was going to die. I was obsessively checking my yard each morning for rat poison in case the dogs went out. I was afraid. Afraid I’d have to fight him off. I just wanted to be strong enough to survive. When I realized I could deadlift his body weight, I felt less afraid.”
“Until my father was diagnosed with lung cancer, I thought I knew about all of his biggest adventures. He grew up in a dirt-floor cabin in Appalachia; he became friends with a burgeoning country music star when he climbed a fire escape into their recording studio. He built my childhood home with his bare hands. I started having him write down his stories in his hospital room. Once he started, he never wanted to stop.”
“When you ask a special needs parent how they’ve been and they roll their eyes, yawn, and say, ‘Eh, it’s been rough, honestly.’ It might be our pride or that we feel guilty. If you have been wondering how you can help, know that it is simple. Show up. Keep showing up.”
“Within weeks, my antique jewelry was gone. The horror was so awful, the things that went on. I remember begging her not to make me go into the room with them. She said, ‘It’s about to get real,’ and then she was gone. I found a single, unused stamp. I used an old envelope from an overdue bill and a scrap of paper to write the only family who would still listen. They lived 3,000 miles away. I wrote 5 words: ‘GET ME OUT OF HERE.’ That was 13 years ago.”
