“The look in his eyes when he sees me. The way he snuggles into position to fall asleep. The sound of his favorite word on repeat: ‘Ma-ma.’ Being his cushion, his happy place. I wouldn’t trade this for anything. I don’t ever want to forget how it feels to be his person.”
“She would make comments about finding a new family for her son if we didn’t give her the extra money, dangling her baby boy in front of us like a carrot. I truly lost my faith in humanity. She pretended to be a lot of things, but a decent human being was, by far, her greatest act. She was sentenced to 20 years in prison.”
“I threw heavy flower pots through the glass front door and begged the police officer to shoot me. Sadly, the beast that is addiction took over. As terrifying as it was to unearth such a deep truth about myself, suddenly everything began to click. I began to recognize why I couldn’t stay sober for even an hour. I was not the woman I was raised to be.”
“Around 6 a.m., I heard her crying by my bed. ‘Mommy, my head hurts, my throat hurts, and my chest hurts really bad.’ This child never cried. She was breathing weird and for a bit, I thought she was being dramatic. Then in her weak, sweet, little voice, she asked, ‘Mommy, am I going to die?’ Something wasn’t sitting right. Every few seconds, she would say, ‘Mommy’ or ‘Hello,’ just so I knew she was doing okay.”
“Today, I yelled at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just playing like a normal 3 year old would…but I yelled at you. I told you to stop…to be quiet…to just listen to me. You spilled your water. It was an accident…but I yelled. I told you be to careful…to pay attention…to just sit still.”
“It’s the first time my son has taken off his church button-up and replaced it on his hanger. No, it’s not perfect. Yes, it’s still disheveled. But he was trying to do the right thing…completely unprompted. So often, we walk right by our children’s best efforts.”
“‘Go ahead, I’ll watch the kids.’ The woman walks off, alone. She’ll be back soon, and anyway, her mother loves time with the grandkids. She’ll get a kick of watching the 3-year-old go up and down the tiny plastic slide. After the play space, they’ll do a little more shopping and grab lunch at the Food Court. Mostly, they’ll talk. It’s a common scene. But it makes a lump rise in my throat. I used to do this sort of thing, before my mom got too sick.”
“No matter how hard I worked, how dedicated I was, or how much effort I put into my classroom, I was still considered ‘just a teacher.’ My parents did not raise a quitter.”
“The other day one of my son’s friends, who has been spending a lot of time at our house, called him ‘Rich Boy.’ At the time, my son really didn’t have much to say about it, but at bedtime something was on his mind that he needed help sorting out. ‘Mommy, why was Charlie calling me Rich Boy?’ I felt tears begin to sting my eyes and clenched my toes to will them back into place.”
“As soon as I woke, I immediately went looking for my husband. I don’t know how, but I knew something was terribly wrong. I searched room-by-room and when I got to the office, I saw it. A note on the desk. I remember screaming in my backyard, crying to the 911 operator. ‘Can you tell me about his erratic behavior?’ I watched the blood on my hands go down the sink as I tried my best to answer questions. Guilt washed over me.”
