“Words matter. Actions matter. Thoughts matter.”
- Love What Matters
- Health
“Words matter. Actions matter. Thoughts matter.”
“‘Babe, how many more of these are you going to try?’ I was fighting something I had no control over. When the nurses laid him on my chest, he turned his head up to look at me with his big blue eyes. I felt immeasurable love I never knew could exist. My heart might break at the thought of what she is giving up. She is woven into all my ‘I love you’s.’ I am his mom, because she chose me to be, and I love him with all my heart, for the both of us.”
“I never knew my biological father. My momma was dating a man, got pregnant, and they parted ways. She had me by herself. I was not told about any of this until I was 12 years old. That was the beginning of my downward spiral. I was acting out, angry at everyone. It ripped us apart. Then I took a chance and sent them each a message.”
“I’m smelly. There’s oil and debris gunked on my face. I have knotted hair, armpit hair. Other hair. I’m disgusting right now. There’s no other way of saying it. Mental illness sounds cute when you put it on a post with a person staring in the distance saying they’re ‘depressed.’ But depression is more than just sadness. It’s raw. It’s not showering for 6 days, then collapsing in your bed, exhausted, when you finally do.”
“She wanted to dress like Elena of Avalor for church today. Which is why, at 35 years old, I fight my instinct to say ‘no’ to magic as often as possible. I want my children to savor the weirdness of their childhood as long as the world will allow it. I want my daughter to believe in goblins and fairies and princess warriors.”
“He was showering after a long day with our kids and happened to leave his phone on the table. Unlocked. For some reason, I felt compelled to look at his messages. I scroll up, hoping to see some cute old texts we sent months back. I wanted to re-read them, to smile. What I saw, made me want to cry. The person he was texting was a very broken woman.”
“I watched as Bradley Cooper’s character glanced at the camera and pulled down the garage door. I couldn’t breathe. I knew what he was going to do. I knew what he was feeling. I glanced at my husband, who was now sound asleep. I started to cry. I knew those feelings intimately. It has been 4 years for me.”
“My doctor saw blood and wouldn’t even attempt to check if my baby was alive. ‘WHAT?! You’re not doing an ultrasound? Blood work? Doppler?’ He shook his head no. ‘There is no use. You’re losing your baby.’ He dismissed us without emotion and left. The next day, we went to the OB to confirm the miscarriage. WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP. The nurse burst in, full-on sobbing. We were urged to terminate the pregnancy.”
“I pulled up his profile, scrolled through his pictures, and hit the add button. I waited for at least 3 days. No message, no anything. I went back to assuming he just added ’random blondes.’ I finally decided I would make the first move. I didn’t want my daughter to wind up even more heartbroken.”
“I hear the sound of a huge dog clambering down the wood floor hallway. If toddler silence is a dangerous sound, this is the doggy equivalent. I chased her around the house trying to dislodge a slice of Meat Lovers. Then I saw the flames. The kids come running in. ‘FIRE! FIRE! WHAT’S OUR ESCAPE PLAN?’ We don’t have one, but bet we do by this afternoon.”