“I imagined myself growing old and wrinkled, building a beautiful family with the love of my life. Instead, I’m watching my body waste away right before my eyes with nothing I can do about it.”
		- Love What Matters
 - Health
 
		
		  “I imagined myself growing old and wrinkled, building a beautiful family with the love of my life. Instead, I’m watching my body waste away right before my eyes with nothing I can do about it.”
		  “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.”
		  “As soon as I gave birth, my mother told the doctor, ‘Get the baby out of here! We’re not keeping it.’ That crushed my soul. I was 16 and never allowed to see my daughter. I overheard the nurse say ‘severe infection.’ I cried even more. ‘She didn’t make it.’ 29 years later, after the birth and death of my daughter, I received an email on Ancestry.com. Deep in my heart, I knew. My mind was racing.”
		  “I should’ve known she was thinking about something by the way she stared with her eyebrows furrowed. But she didn’t say a word until Mrs. Cynthia came back to sit with us. I am usually able to stop my kids from asking these things out loud. I see their wheels turning, and I shush them before the words even escape their mouths. But my daughter was too fast, and I was left there, panicking.”
		  “‘Isn’t it time for you to be moving on?’ No. I will never move on. My child died, it’s not like I lost an earring. You don’t just pick up and move on to the next thing. ‘God wanted him more.’ This did not comfort me. My doctor said this. He didn’t call Jensen a him, he actually said, ‘God wanted it more.’ My son is not an it.”
		  “The moment after her birth I had so longed for – the intense emotion I was supposed to have, never happened. The feeling I was supposed to get when she first cried, never happened. The love I was ‘supposed’ to have seeing Dan hold our daughter, never happened. The day she was born, I became a different person. I started hearing and seeing things. These images and voices would pop into my head.”
		  “I know you are excited, but remember it is not your right to visit a new baby, it is a privilege.”