“Dirty talk for me as a mother now is looking at my husband like I’m Post Malone (frizzy flyaway hair included) who’s smoked a few too many J’s with the sultriest voice I have and say, ‘I’ve showered today,’ flicking my nana undies at him. And him giving me the nod replying, ‘How tired are you?’”
“Sometimes during the week, I’ll be exhausted. Just completely worn out from the day. I’ll come home, and Adam will have supper cooked. Usually, I clean up the dishes, and we take turns with baby baths/bedtime routines. But I have a complete pass on responsibilities when I really need it. All I say is, ‘I’m going hunting.’ Adam just smiles and nods.”
“’Really? That’s what you’re going to eat for breakfast?’ I vividly remember holding my two pieces of cinnamon toast in my trembling hands. Every single one of my siblings had already toasted their bread, buttered it, and sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar. Yet, I was the only one singled out by my grandpa. Age 15, I began attending meetings every week with my mother. Strange adult women would applaud and beam at me. I was given jewelry to celebrate my ‘hard work.’ Women twice my age would ask what my ‘secret’ was.”
“It was just me and Alice at the hospital. There was a soft glow from the bathroom, the door barely cracked. She laid on my chest, we were just there together, soaking each other in. Time stood still. She was so feminine, petite. I say, ‘I know whenever I sing, you are there,’ and I truly mean it. It’s as if I am sharing my beautiful, perfect daughter, and that brings me joy. I would find her singing to herself in her bed. I knew we would be connected through music forever.”
“My diagnosis began in a yoga studio. I noticed something was wrong when I couldn’t hold my balance easily. I developed a tight pinching and dull ache in my right shoulder. As I came out from anesthesia, my mom asked the doctor how it went. ‘Well, confusing,’ he replied. ‘The cause of your swelling and pain remains a mystery.’ I was stunned. I ended up in a surgeon’s office. ‘This is suspicious for a sarcoma.’ I had to interrupt. ‘I’m sorry, you said sarcoma? Do you mean I have cancer?’ I stammered in disbelief.”
“Every diaper I got to change came with so much excitement. Every feeding was so special to me. But secretly, I was still scared. My heart was attached, but my mind knew to keep a distance, just in case. And then I felt it. ‘This baby isn’t going anywhere.’”
“My dad was the disciplinarian at home. DO NOT MAKE DAD ANGRY. I don’t remember hearing ‘I love you.’ From my dad. Ever. He was brought up in the traditional ‘macho’ way. He’d constantly tell me, ‘I had it MUCH worse than you growing up!’ But then something really weird began to happen at school – it made me feel warm and fuzzy. I was validated and encouraged by teachers. Wait, what? A hurricane of hormones was wreaking havoc on me. I was an angry teen who needed to fill the hole in my heart.”
“I hear a faint call, ‘Mom…Mom…. MOM!’. On the third ‘mom’ I was snapped back into reality. ‘MOOOOOM!’ A louder fourth one came out 2 inches from my face. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t hide it. I sat on the floor in the middle of an aisle in Target and started bawling.”
“The day before my vacation to the Caribbean, I realized my period was late. I spoke to my mom on the drive home from work. I’ll never forget her words: ‘Honey, it will probably be negative, but you will be drinking on your trip. Just take the test for peace of mind. ‘ I took it that night. It was POSITIVE! I laid there in so much pain, sobbing, and praying for a miracle.”
“BAM. So, we get to church, and the sermon was, you guessed it, ON THIS VERY TOPIC. Well played, God. Clearly God is listening to us around the kitchen island, too.”
