“My son was limp and blue, an umbilical cord choked around his neck. My face was so swollen my eyelids were turned upside down. I heard whimpers, more gushes. I called out to my husband. His voice weakly managed, ‘I love you’ as I was wheeled out of the room. He was left sitting on the hospital room floor, in a pool of my blood. The family my husband and I had always dreamed of was now painfully impossible.”
“Not even my mom could deny there was actually something wrong with me. She rushed my calamine-soaked body to the doctor. My eyes got as big as sand dollars and my life flashed before my eyes. The only time I had ever heard of a Scarlet Fever diagnosis was on an episode of ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ I didn’t know what to do. So, I did the only thing I could think of in that moment. I cried. My mom slid into the bed next to me.”
“Her skin was scarred from the bombing. She had virtually no hair left. But all I could see were those big, brown eyes with extra-long eyelashes. As we waited at the gate and the plane arrived, the last passenger walked out and there was no Teeba. My heart sunk. There was no way I wasn’t going to answer this calling.”
“It was Christmas time. I’d just finished getting my tree and laid down when my brother called. ‘Mom passed.’ Time stopped. Silence. I instantly threw up. The next day, I drove home. The first thing I saw was her pile of presents. She’d wrapped them and when she finished, she sat down and never got up again. I wish I could’ve thanked her, told her how much her words meant to me. I thought I had more time but, out of nowhere, time ran out.”
“Our backyard neighbor squeezed the trigger. The bullet traveled over 200 yards to our home, crashed through our back window, and continued across our living room. My postpartum body was weak, but I dragged myself to Justin’s side. Overnight, I became a shell of the person I once was. Later, my friend tried to set me up on a date. ‘Will he think I don’t love Justin anymore?’ We immediately hit it off. ‘Hey Jess,’ he said, ‘It’s so good to see you.’ I hope my son will grow up to be like both of my husbands.”
“You will stand in their bedroom and plead that you ‘just want them back’. If you watch the person you love disappear right in front of your eyes, you will start to dissolve too. Those not directly affected won’t understand. It is not the person who uses, but the addiction. And yet, sadly… it is not the addiction that dies, but the person.”
“The tears were streaming down my face as I faced this man, the love of my life, my soulmate. Our marriage hasn’t been easy. It hasn’t even been hard. It was impossible. I spent years in a haze of prescription drugs, lying, manipulation and selfishness. I broke the law, put my children in danger, stole money from church and our personal account to fund my addiction. He had no choice but to take our 3 children and leave.”
“I can remember longing all of my life for a best friend, the kind you see in movies growing up. The girls who spend hours together, basically connected at the hip. I’m finally learning to just be chill about it.”
“After a long year of our kids feeling burnt out, bullied, and unsupported at their private school, we made the difficult choice to bring them home. I wish I could say it was an easy transition or that it immediately felt like the right choice. If I’m being honest, it felt like the only choice. They struggled to go to school each day and their passion for learning dwindled. We knew we had to act fast. So, we dove right in, grieving the life we were leaving behind.”
“I had 3 happy, healthy, perfect kids. Until I didn’t. Zach called home from the school nurse with a headache. I followed our standard rule, ‘You aren’t throwing up, you don’t have a fever. Go back to class.’ For 2 days, he told me his eyes and ears felt weird. I told a friend, a nurse, that my son was holding his head funny. Within a minute she said, ‘You need to get him checked.’ I said, ‘Oh ok.’ Then she said, ‘I mean now.’”
