“I needed to go in for surgery. This terrified me. I thought I could handle the pain – I was wrong. I was in the bathtub. Tears flood my eyes. My daughter sat next to the tub, sharing blue raspberry Jell-O. ‘Do you need to take a bath? I can eat Jell-O with you.’ She is the most caring, sweet, and loving 3-year-old. Finally, it was announced we had a girl, her cord was cut, and she was laid on my chest. I was still sure something bad was going to happen.”
“When this kid constantly threatened to beat Drew up, the school did nothing. When this kid followed Drew down the hall making fun of him on video, the school did nothing. When other kids told teachers and administrators he was harassing Drew, the school did nothing. Drew decided he would quit relying on the adults to protect him. He decided HE would do something.”
“Those two names caught me off guard. Her brother and sister passed away within 2 months of birth. Tears instantly formed in my eyes. There is no handbook for how to survive the death of a child.”
“‘You’re boring. Stop trying to change me.’ I broke up with him. Then I found out I was pregnant. Baby was born by emergency c-section. I thought I was going to die. As soon as I got home, I couldn’t wait to get drunk again. My son was 10 weeks old, it was my birthday, I celebrated HARD. I couldn’t move the next day, couldn’t even change his diaper, so sick. Maternity leave became wine o’clock. I’d count down the hours to 5 p.m. I was now a grown-up drinker, a mom. Wine to relax with my baby, that’s normal, right?”
“I watched her breathe so slowly. ‘It’s okay to go now. You won’t be in pain anymore.’ At 9:14 p.m. she took her last breath. Her brothers cuddled her one last time and said their final goodbyes. There’s something about seeing your 5-year-old carrying a tiny little casket that will break your heart and make you so proud all at the same time. He was always holding his little sister, even in death.”
“As a child, we moved a lot. There were always rude comments. ‘What is that red thing on your face?’ Because of my birthmark, I never had a girlfriend in high school, never went to the prom. When my dad asked me if I wanted to get treatments, I refused. ‘The only thing worse than a giant birthmark on my face would be a giant swollen, burnt and scabbed birthmark on my face.’ I had no idea it could get progressively worse.”
“I just freaking love you. Honestly, I didn’t really ‘get it’ until my 30’s; until the dramas of life started to be really critical. Lifetime level heartbreaks, pregnancies, cancers, divorces, careers, health, death. The real stuff. The real real.”
“The doctor actually laughed and told me I was ‘just dehydrated.’ One asked, ‘Have you been sexually abused?’ He thought the pain was in my head. I decided it was time to walk away from my dream of being a mother. ‘It’s okay to put yourself and your health first. It’s okay to stop.’ She lovingly placed her hands on my shoulders, looked directly into my eyes and said, ‘You’re going to be okay.'”
“It’s not normal to be 26 years old and be terrified to stay in your house alone. My husband was out of state for work. I worried about it for 2 months. I kept telling myself over and over, ‘You are going to be fine.’ I was fine until 9:30 p.m. when all of a sudden, it hit me. If someone broke in, I couldn’t hear it. I snapped into panic. I’ve asked my husband countless times, ‘Do you still love me? Why do you want to be with me?’”
“I eagerly dialed the number. ‘My son lost both of his parents when he was 2. He’s grieving. I need guidance, and would appreciate an evaluation.’ I want to start helping him NOW instead of LATER. ‘Okay ma’am, our waitlist is over a year out.’ I was incredibly defeated. I had no idea this would be so hard to find help for my child. No clue at all. I have this inner voice that won’t quiet down. ‘Get help, Molly!’”
