“My infertility journey began at 11. I’d just started my period and there I was, having life-saving surgery, my ovaries twisting in pain. ‘The growth on your bladder is cancerous and ready to spread.’ After years with my husband, it was time to call the IVF clinic. I did the usual bloodwork, only to be called soon after. ‘Can you come back in? It seems you’re already pregnant…’ Tears fell down my face. I could not believe my eyes.”
“‘I have to get naked and bend over. They want to make sure I’m not sneaking anything in my butt cheeks.’ After a revolving door of drugs and women, and a lifetime of waiting for you to change, I gave up. It felt like a knife on your exposed flesh. I could see it in your eyes but that wasn’t enough to make me say ‘Dad.’ I’d be damned before I let you in again.”
“I didn’t contradict her. Some days, I really miss having a quiet meal with easily flowing adult conversation. Some nights, I fantasize about sleeping without interruption or a foot in my face. But this chaos that is my life brings me joy.”
“Tonight I walked into the tanning salon. The employee seemed very annoyed and not welcoming. At first I thought, ‘Well, someone’s not in a good mood.’ Then I looked down to see a sick baby sitting in his car seat beside her. She’d run out of sick days. As I lay in the tanning bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the overwhelmed look on her face.”
“He proceeded to tell me he was murdered. Rumors spread he was shot over a lottery ticket. ‘I can’t go into detail due to investigation.’ I was in shock. At the burial service, we watched as he was placed 6 feet under. I remember standing in the rain, not caring it was pouring. Still on probation, the only thing I could hear was my father’s voice: ‘My son is going to make some money one day singing and playing guitar.’ I owed it to him to be better, to do better.”
“He was drinking a lot and took some pills. I was forced onto his bike and he took off very fast, driving recklessly. Terrified, I clung to him. A cop quickly pulled behind us. He sped off at 100 mph. That’s when it happened. I didn’t wake up until a month and a half later. ‘This can’t be real.’ I was heartbroken with a pain I’d never felt before. ‘Where are my babies?!’ When they came to visit, they wouldn’t even come near me. They couldn’t recognize me anymore.”
“I had never had a kid be a benchwarmer before. I didn’t know how to be the parent of a kid who didn’t play. I didn’t know how to get excited for the team when my kid wasn’t on the floor. It was a new role for me, and I didn’t like it. What really bothered me most was that it seemed to NOT bother her. After 2 weeks into the season, I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer.”
“I would sit on Grandma’s porch as she brushed my long, strawberry blond hair. In the corner of that wonderful porch hung my dad’s Navy hammock where my cousins and I would spend hours swaying on a summer’s day. I am so lucky.”
“Today, in the middle of the chaos, I did something unexpected. My husband started talking to me. Instead of being distracted by the kids or my current hate fire for him, I looked at him — not past him, but at him. I maneuvered around the kids and embraced him in a hug. ‘I love you,’ I whispered in his ear. Because I do.”
“Dear Coronavirus: You came into our world unannounced, with your bouncy body and your fluffy spikes, and you took over our lives. You see, I’m a mom and I worry. My mind tells me I can go on with my life and take my kids out like there is nothing to worry about, but my heart reminds me of all the guilt I’d feel if anything were to happen to them because of a choice I’d made. I still want to believe we haven’t lost the war against you yet.”
