“It was just after 11 a.m. on a Saturday morning when I received the phone call from my mom. ‘Your sister has been in a car accident.’ She was headed to the hospital. I’ll never forget the pain in my dad’s voice and anguish in my mother’s cry’s echoing in the background. I decided in that room of 7 doctors that my sister had already showed us she wants to live!”
“Her words were confident as she loaded the belt with groceries, one by one, BEAMING. I smiled. ‘Oh! That’s not how it works. My bio son isn’t some weird reward for adopting.’ A lady actually argued with me. She told me pregnancy and biological babies are always the goal, ‘congrats for me.’ He was always our plan.”
“I was 18-years old when I met him. I moved in with this man who was 17 years older. He told me he loved me. I believed him. He convinced me to do things, including recording our sexual encounters. ‘These are just for us to watch,’ he promised. I checked his browser history, horrified at what I found.”
“In the first coherent moments after surgery, I was in a hospital room with my husband by my side. Everyone had kissed me goodbye and returned home. It must have been the drugs, because I was suddenly concerned about a white gift bag sitting on the counter. I motioned for him to bring it to me. The bag contained three gifts: a square, a stone, and a scarf.”
“Someday, I’ll quit using dry shampoo. I’ll dye my hair regularly and take care of my nails. I’ll choose my clothing as a fashion statement instead of knotting my shirt over a stain. I’ll even read grown-up books instead of books about little monsters. But right now isn’t that ‘someday.’ And I’m okay with being mostly mommy.”
“No one is cleaning their house every day. No one is having sex every day. No one has it all together.”
“No one looks twice when a mom says she enjoys ‘mom juice,’ aka wine, after her kids are in bed. But when a mom says she smokes weed, it’s a huge shock. Marijuana has helped me so much, especially when it comes to being a mom. It’s my can of beer. It’s my relaxation time. You can still be a kick ass mom, and smoke weed.”
“Things came to a boiling point. I ran all the way back to my house, flew up the stairs, locked the door, and melted into tears, gasps. The police didn’t help. ‘He hasn’t hurt her yet. We can’t do anything.’ He hadn’t hurt me YET. Imagine my 10-year-old brain trying to process this. How could I feel safe? All of my innocence, comfort went out the window. Every morning, he gazed at me from my bus stop.”
“‘Natalie. He died.’ I can still remember it like yesterday. Being woken up in my freshman year dorm from a call. All I remember next is screaming, ‘No, no, no, no, no!’ Dead. Died. Gone. As time went on, I started feeling sick. Very sick.”
“She was suffering. The nurse wanted to try another medication to help ease her pain. Our daughter had an immediate reaction and stopped breathing. My baby was dying in my living room. Matt was racing home from work. ‘Please never let her suffer this way ever again.’ My heart couldn’t handle watching my baby endure this. Her body was tired. She’s now an angel in heaven.”
