“The rock hit my axle and sent us plummeting into the side of a cliff. With all my might, I tried to lift the heavy van off my son’s tiny body, but he was already gone. People commented how horrible of a mom I was. How I deserved it. I wanted to shake them, tell them how hard I fought to save him. That he held my hand with his little fingers, and told me I was the best mama ever. But no one would have listened anyway.”
“My son was vomiting and having crazy amounts of diarrhea for days. As I was unpacking his daycare bag, he was standing beside me crying. Next thing I know, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out. I now have a 2-year-old with multiple chronic allergies and an 8-week-old heading in the same direction.”
“After the teary goodbyes, we walked inside. Our son tossed his shoes off and threw himself on the floor sobbing. It broke my heart because I knew he is now realizing that ‘See ya in 2 weeks’ is a different kind of goodbye. What broke my heart more was the pain in his daddy’s eyes as he drove off.”
“‘Your baby has a large mass. Prepare for the worst.’ I was learning how to be married, live in a city where we knew no one, being first-time teachers and parents to a baby who may or may not be okay. The older, wiser folks warned us to slow down. And yet none of this chaos ever silenced the call we felt to pursue adoption and fostering. Our life is absolutely crazy. But I look through my dark-circled eyes at this beautiful mess and know I’m right where I need to be.”
“I was familiar with this move by medical professionals. The old ‘lose weight’ diagnosis. She asked me a question about breastfeeding and literally didn’t even listen to the answer. She responded as though I said the exact opposite thing. Not listening. Not present. ‘Yes. Go lose some weight. Then come see me again in 4 months.’ I had all the warning signs.”
“Stop trying so hard, little girl. Know who you are. Know you are strong. Know you are smart. Know you have a voice, are capable and worthy. Know you’re never ever alone.”
“I had tried 13 different bottles at this point. I walked around with the nipples of each bottle in my bra all day long, so they would get my scent on them. Friends tried. My husband tried. But the boy just wanted my boob. The doctor’s advice? Feed every 2 hours. Tell this to an already sleep-deprived mom whose baby was being passed around from specialist to specialist like a hot potato.”
“I saw my mom inject heroin. When the social workers came, I would hide all her needles. I didn’t want to be labeled ‘the foster child’ at school. When I turned 12, only 2 couples came forward wanting to adopt me. I felt like I was betraying my mom. I no longer wanted to be here, and inhaled poisonous fumes. But now I know why I’ve had this life.”
“I was waiting to pre-board a plane with my two young children when another passenger grabbed my shoulder. She told me I needed to wait for family boarding. I responded it was indeed our turn to go. ‘How’d you manage that?’ she asked. ‘We have different circumstances,’ I replied.”
“She was innocently attempting to make sense of us 3. I followed up quickly. ‘I had nothing to do with it,’ I said, winking at the mother of my child. Nicole, his birth mom, responded with her trademark wisdom. ‘I’ll take credit for his good looks,’ she whispered. ‘You can take credit for his smile.’”
