“Ricky rubbed my belly. I looked up at him as we passed a green light. Suddenly, everything went numb and black. I awoke upside down in a ditch, locked in my seat belt, my water broken. I was 41 weeks pregnant. Ricky lay beside me. I held his hand and kept checking his pulse. His breathing slowed. At the hospital, they tried to find my baby’s heartbeat for 10 minutes. ‘This is all a nightmare,’ I kept thinking to myself.”
“Within moments, he mentioned that he would be seeing other people. I said, ‘Pardon me?’ He had everything he could ever want. A housewife making homemade meals every day. A clean house, two beautiful happy boys, a gorgeous house. I took care of myself and couldn’t understand why I was not enough for him.”
“All around you right now are mamas who are terrified to send their kids to school this year. Their hearts break every time their amazing kid comes home with no stories of lunchtime conversations or playground games. My girls no longer have the luxury of living in a perfect, bubble-wrapped world. I, for one, know they are better for it.”
“Our son begged for ‘just one brother.’ Then we met Debbie. She was advocating for a boy with Down syndrome, to find him a forever home. I listened politely, thinking the entire time, ‘Nope, we’re full.’ Soon, we had 7 kids. I had my first-ever surprise pregnancy. I could hear the judgmental comments. ‘Do you know what causes this?’ ‘Boy, aren’t your hands full already?’”
“Cue my montage of preparation: I went to Victoria’s Secret and picked out lingerie. I curled my hair and gave myself the best smokey eye I could without YouTube tutorials at that time. I didn’t have a religious motive for waiting, just the humiliation of my first kiss. I was at a party, drunk off Mike’s Hard Lemonade, when I met a guy. We made out in a hallway and an hour later, he turned his attention to my friend. There was no passion, no Hollywood glamour.”
“I took my first dose of the medication to help my body miscarry. It didn’t work. Don’t get me wrong, there was nothing ceremonial about miscarrying on the toilet compared to in an operating room. It was just what I felt was right for me.”
“My mom died. The food came rolling in. The cards. The visitors. The calls and texts. People bombard you. Too much even. Everyone wants to ‘be there for you.’ But the frustrating part? Everyone wants to be there, all at once, at the beginning, and then they all leave.”
“Before I had children myself, I worked as a full-time nanny. I never judged you, I loved being your helping hand, but I thought your dirty house was just your personality. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know.”
“I walked past the TV playing Mickey Mouse, the mess on the floor, my husband sitting silently on the couch. I started driving and I wasn’t sure where. I just walked out the door and left. Because I have a husband and healthy kids, I’m supposed to ‘enjoy every second’ even when I’m slipping. So, I suck it up because there’s real people going through real things.”
“I’ve heard it so much, ‘Entitled.’ I went to a party. ‘Who is raising kids like this these days? iPhones and miniskirts,’ I heard them say. With this younger generation, I didn’t see entitlement. Not an ounce.”
