“We got the call. THE CALL. A baby had been born the day prior, and his birth mother had chosen us to raise him. We spent the next 12 hours frantically rushing around. And then, literally on our way out the door, we got another call: she had changed her mind. This wasn’t our baby.”
“Now when I think back to that moment, I can’t help but wonder why she didn’t tell us just how much joy and happiness Asher would bring us. Or how much closer our family would be because of him. Why didn’t she tell us it would be a HAPPY ending, and that Asher would change the world?”
“I was at a routine appointment. As the lady walked into the room, she smiled, repeated herself, and that’s when I realized, she didn’t know two of my children died.”
“I kept saying to myself nothing was wrong. I had seen the baby move and he looked perfectly beautiful and strong. When the doctor came in, I saw her face. With a serious look she asked me if I was alone.”
“We were happy because we were finally going to find out the genders of our sweet babies, but we were terrified because this appointment would confirm if something was truly wrong.”
“I wanted to be able to tell my daughter that she threw her head back when she laughed. How she dipped her fries in mayonnaise, but mostly how much she loved her. How she begged me to make sure my daughter always knew.”
“There was no fight, no scuffle. Just bone-crushing shock. For years, I imagined him as every man I saw – walking down the street, opening my office door, pushing through a crowd. Every victim I heard about on the news was me – helpless and broken – life as they knew it taken from them in one moment.”
“When he would chase me around the apartment with a shotgun, I thought it was normal. When he confronted me about scabs and boils all over his body, I thought he needed to go to a clinic – maybe he had an STD?”
“I wanted to prove to Adrian that there is support for him beyond what he saw. Most people have heard that a number of transgender people will attempt suicide. Regardless, this is simply not a risk I was willing to take.”
“My son is homeless, living on the street, with who knows how little warm clothing. Is he even still alive? I drive by his haunts. He hangs out by my work neighborhood often. How does that make me feel? Like he wants to be close, but oh so far away.”
