“The ‘love of my life’ went to prison. ‘Why?! Finally, I can get away from him! And now I’m carrying his child!?’ I was so scared. Once I had my daughter, I didn’t say a word. Until one night, she was 3 months old, he randomly shows up at my door at 9:00 p.m. When I opened it, my heart felt like it was in my throat. He just stood there and stared at her as I held her in my arms. She was his twin.”
“As I stepped into the room, I experienced something I never could have prepared myself for. The look of absolute misery on his face, the way the tears streamed down his cheeks, the way his eyes pleaded with us to stop. I helped hold him down. It was necessary, yet so horrible. I had tears in my eyes. I went home that day wondering how I was going to come back tomorrow.”
“I called the doctor. ‘It should be ok, sometimes people spot. Just come in when you’re back.’ The bright red spotting didn’t stop our entire beach trip. We get to the doctors, in the same ultrasound room as our last baby. I stare at the same ugly ceiling, look at the same vagina poster. I yearn for baby to be ok like the babies pictured in the hideous Sears-looking newborn photos on the wall. It was not ok. The words came once again. ‘I’m sorry.’ Silence. Again. 5 times.”
“Sometimes, my husband goes to bed before me. He turns off the big lights, and then turns on a lamp for me. It should be literally no big deal, right? Just a nice thing for him to do on his way to bed, in all reality. It has always annoyed me to my absolute core.”
“She was perfectly formed. She had long, narrow toes like her Mama, full beautiful lips like her Daddy. It took my breath away. I was in love. But our sweet baby wasn’t there. We held and kissed her 1,000 times. ‘We will miss you every moment of our lives,’ we told her. I could almost hear her coo. We said goodbye to her little body. They carried her away.”
“I was 24 years old when I watched my husband suffocate to death. I destroyed the hospital room. I threw things. I screamed. I tried to resuscitate him. And then I lay helplessly on his cold chest and sobbed. But I was not alone that day. Jon was a dear friend of Jordan’s. In our wedding, Jon was one of our ushers. He paused to let me take in what he was saying. ‘I just want what is best for you. If you want me to wait for you, I will.’”
“The week before, we were celebrating our 8-year wedding anniversary and my 5 years being in remission from my fight with cancer. For 5 years, we held our breath – hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. The week before Brad’s ER visit, we finally exhaled. We talked about our future. Whether or not we wanted kids. Where we’d retire. And then, Brad started having fevers and night sweats, symptoms I was all too familiar with.”
“If it weren’t for my sister calling me right before, I wouldn’t be here. She had no idea I’d just written a letter saying ‘goodbye.’ No one knew I was suffering. No one asked if I was okay. I shared only the good parts of my life, never the struggles. My family thought my life was beautiful and amazing.”
“We got a knock on the door. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, I’m here to take Ren.’ I couldn’t get myself to physically lay Ren in the box. I turned to my husband and asked if he was okay to do it. I saw his heart rip in two. Tears streamed down his face. We tried to take in every detail, remember his newborn smell. We gently took off the cap they gave him. He had tiny little blonde curls.”
“She was a stripper, and she introduced me to the lifestyle. I was infatuated by it. Fast money, flashy life, and drugs galore. It wasn’t long before I started working as a dancer in the strip club, and my life took an even darker turn. I was in the bathroom doing lines of cocaine. She pulled out another bag of drugs that looked different. ‘It’s heroin. Do you want to try it?’ Biggest mistake of my life.”
