“Complete strangers would peer into her stroller and make comments about her everywhere we went. ‘Looks like she stuck her finger in the power socket,’ was a frequent comment.”
- Love What Matters
- Health
“Complete strangers would peer into her stroller and make comments about her everywhere we went. ‘Looks like she stuck her finger in the power socket,’ was a frequent comment.”
“The one thing I was ‘known for’ was being taken from me. I vividly remember I’d have to hide in the bathroom before school started, practically unable to function, dragging myself to my classroom at the last minute. I felt entirely numb. I felt absolutely nothing. How could I not be graduating? It was my senior year!”
“I started seeing a shift. He was moody, had bouts of rage. He was volatile. Every moment felt like walking on eggshells. I felt constantly on edge, waiting on the next blow up. He was always tired. I mentioned all this to the pediatrician. Nothing fit. I was losing my sweetheart of a boy. Finally, I said, ‘What about Celiac?’”
“My first thought was, ‘They have the wrong boy.’ My son loves school! Frustrated, I yelled, grounded him. Then, the next morning, I heard it. Sobs coming from the shower. ‘Mom, I’m not feeling okay.’ He told me he felt extremely depressed. That it was so bad he contemplated killing himself and had skipped class to find a quiet space to cry alone and breathe. Instantly, I felt a pang in my heart.”
“No one mentions that you disappear into your own walls. A part of the furniture. Like an old armchair that’s jumped on all day and the last thing you want to do is talk to someone or be touched. We have to be grateful, so we shut our mouths. I’m in silence listening to others say, ‘I never felt like that, I loved it.’ Sinking deeper into our guilt.”
“‘The room looks good!,’ Eric peeked in. I didn’t smile. I didn’t say thank you. Instead, I was short with him. ‘Well, it’s done.’ We were hurting. ‘Come over here and give me a kiss,’ he smiled. I heard him say goodbye to the girls in the living room. He yelled, ‘love you’ and then the garage door slammed shut. Later, I heard my phone. It was a football coach’s number – not Eric’s. I pulled both of our blonde-headed girls to me. I wasn’t sure the words would escape me.”
“This type of behavior should not be accepted.”
“I allowed myself to be a momentary creeper. I just pulled back, parked my cart and watched all the sweet mamas. I wanted to say what all the elderly ladies used to say when they saw me in Target at 8 a.m. – ‘Enjoy it. It goes fast.’ But I resisted.”
“I got a call from my daughter’s teacher. She said there had been a pretty catastrophic incident while cleaning up. I listened intently, but none of this was a surprise to me. I got off the phone and was so mad. That little girl would never ask her to play again; likely she’d run home and tell her parents about the bully in class.”
“I was STRONGLY encouraged to wait for kids. My incision was paper thin. 3 months later, I was pregnant. My little baby was growing alongside fibroids the size of ORANGES. To make matters worse, he was sunny-side up. My life was in danger. In my foggy head, I heard, ‘Amber, we can’t get the bleeding to stop. Do you want your tubes tied?’ I woke up covered in blood.”