“Our brief phone call couldn’t have been longer than 5 minutes, yet it changed everything we knew or expected for our future. I had been hoping that they were wrong. Terrified of the unknown, I put off buying anything for our baby. I smiled throughout my baby shower I didn’t even want to attend.”
“This work leaks into every part of my life. There’s not a minute that’s safe. It calls in the middle of the night, during hair appointments, and workouts. Vacation doesn’t exist. I miss getting ready. I miss the compliments on my outfit and hair. The hot coffee, and people who got my jokes. When my brain operated well enough to form them. But I know the one thing I’d always miss more than work, are my children.”
“‘Well you decided to have children. Don’t do what you can’t handle.’ I was terrified to break down in front of my friends. Anytime I made any remark about being tired or frustrated, I’d get the response, ‘It goes by so fast. Appreciate the moments because you’ll miss them.’ Did people think I didn’t appreciate my children?”
“I knew nothing about heroin. But I did it. That missing feeling I had inside of me for so long was gone. It felt warm and like I was being hugged. It felt like I had arrived. In my mind, I was a heroin addict, not an alcoholic. I got drunk and got high that night. I would share needles with whoever. I found out I had contracted Hepatitis C. One of my best friends, who I used with, had been sober for 18 months. If she could do it, so could I.”
“‘Because of the chemo, he’ll likely be sterile.’ I felt my heart break as they escorted us out a side door, so I didn’t have to pass the expecting mothers in the waiting room. I tried coming to grips with the fact I may have lost the baby, but there was 1% of me that told me there was a CHANCE.”
“I was born with a big Port Wine Stain, covering half of my face. They would only laser a small part of my birthmark at a time because it was so painful. My mom recalls ‘the smell of burned skin getting in her nose.’ As I got older, I felt people staring more. Adults would stop in the middle of the sidewalk. ‘Wow.’ Kids would point. ‘Look at that.’ Imagine a little girl asking a grown woman, ‘Can I help you?’ That was me growing up.”
“I will always remember these mornings, starting with the doorway being bombarded by a handful of babies ready to snuggle up in our bed. When the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the house amidst the chaos of sticky, syrupy pancake hugs, and toy-take-away battles. Trying to zip jackets, change diapers, and chase down the toddler who took his pants off again.”
“My parents had shed too many tears over me, and I couldn’t bear it to break their hearts again. I felt ready to die, but knew it wasn’t my time. I was weak. I gave up the reigns and opted for inpatient treatment. I was frustrated, and I let this be known. I would shout and hit the walls. I would argue. But gradually, I came to life again. I am no longer held back by my demons.”
“He knows leaks happen and periods can be uncomfortable. He offers to bring me chocolate and Tylenol when I have tummy cramps. He’s completely unashamed. Completely understanding.”
“My life as I knew it came to a screeching halt at the sight of a little pink plus sign. When I became pregnant at 21, I felt like the world was ending. Society ruined this for us. We were so convinced we had to follow this schedule of ‘happenings.’ I was robbed of the blissful success in conceiving.”
