“My doctor told me, ‘Your weight is why you lost your baby.’ I was destroyed. My weight was the reason my marriage ended and it was also the reason I miscarried. My ex-husband even went as far to accuse me of making up the entire pregnancy. I lost my love, my child, and myself that year.”
“I woke up with blood-shot eyes. Everything was a blur. ‘This is going to go away. It can’t get worse.’ This is when my eyesight started to deteriorate. Here I was, 26 years old, a month before my dream wedding day. I had the most beautiful wedding dress, and desperately wanted to look good in my wedding photos. ‘How could this be happening to me?’ I was so angry at the world.”
“I am not a good cook or a great hostess. I often wonder if I’m doing it all right. You’ll find me making bulk Mac and Cheese in gym shorts and t-shirts, un-showered or made up. The couch is sometimes dirty and it gets too crowded at times. And yet, no one cares. All anyone really needs is a heart that says, ‘Welcome, you’re important here.’ THAT is the gift you offer when you open up your home.”
“I was on parole with a daughter on the way. I smoked it. I was so delusional I believed if I didn’t inject it, I wouldn’t become addicted. I was so numb to the world, digging myself into my misery with each high. One night, I was in a drug-induced haze and the most incredible thing happened. Brittany’s water broke. She was in labor.”
“Suddenly I could not keep any food inside of me, from either end. I was losing weight fast. I became a homebody. I was accused of things like, ‘You just want pity. You’re lazy.’”
“I asked to be put on medication. My doctor said to me, ‘Are you sure it’s not just the pressure of Christmas?’ ‘NO!’ I wanted to scream, ‘This is why mothers don’t speak out. Because people belittle us. They tell us to cope.’ I was so angry. I accepted the prescription and left. I knew I needed to do something more than medication. I felt like the worst mom ever.”
“I was spending every day off work as a first responder on a recliner or in bed, surrounded by pain and fatigue. My disease was here to stay, after it had been silent for 12 years. I’ve always been hard-headed. ‘I will do it on my own.’ But when my health became something I could not hide anymore, I knew it was time to share it, despite the fear of what they may judge.”
“Our number one job as parents was to keep her safe, and we could no longer do that at home. There were rumors. I knew people were talking. Having a daughter with mental illness is not like having a child in the hospital with the flu or a broken bone. There were no lasagnas brought by concerned friends. No one knows what to say. It’s lonely and terrifying.”
“I took a deep breath and turned my teary eyes. An average height man locked his blue eyes on mine. Both our smiles began to rise. This was the moment I’d dreamt of my entire life.”
“My stomach dropped. Katy, still recovering from childbirth, fell to her knees in shock. ‘We’ve done everything we could possibly do.’ It was and is still excruciating. ‘One day, you will be able to ask God why this happened. But when you’re able to ask God why, it won’t matter because you’ll be with your baby.’”
