“I was always told, ‘You will never be anything.’ My family didn’t believe I was struggling. I was very good at hiding it. When it did show, they called it a ‘phase.’ I convinced myself no one would notice if I was dead. I had made my decision. Nobody could change my mind. In my bedroom, I wrote my goodbyes and I did it. I started going in and out of consciousness. I could see bright colors. My vision went blurry.”
“Something magical happened. I loaded her on my back. I couldn’t see her face, but I could just feel she was happy. I would show her the world, and I wouldn’t let her diagnosis stop her from seeing the amazing beauty it has to offer.”
“I waited for the crosswalk lights to start flashing, checked again for cars, and stepped into the road. We had almost made it halfway when I saw the car. The sound of the car hitting the stroller still haunts my dreams. I pulled his tiny limp body out of the stroller and just screamed his name over and over.”
“I use what little energy I have for my job and my children. By the end of the day, I can’t sleep. I can’t be productive. I want nothing more than to lie in the dark. I give myself a pep talk to finally brush the knots out of my hair. Some days, I look in the mirror and cry. Then comes the mania. Like today, I’ll clean like crazy. Take a nice, long shower. I’ll play extra long with the kids and message all the people my depression kept me from. All while wondering when depression will strike again.”
“Our thoughts of having a second child were buried under years of trauma. Until one day. ‘Kylee, I want a baby.’ That sparked something inside me I never thought would happen again. 4 days after my transfer, I took a pregnancy test expecting nothing. There was a very faint second line. ‘This has to be a fluke.’ My heart began racing. A different kind of panic ensued.”
“‘Which road are you on?’ My voice broke. ‘I don’t know.’ Crying, I couldn’t remember. Then, I heard a voice from the outside. ‘Are you okay?’ I expected him to leave. I didn’t think he’d stick around. He leaned in. ‘Can you get out of the car?’ he asked. I shook my head, still crying. He hugged me tightly and I hugged him back, sobbing against his chest. I hadn’t asked for a hug. It never occured to me how much I needed one.”
“Rowen’s skull was swelling. He started grabbing his head constantly and screaming. He was throwing up non-stop and couldn’t even turn his head. I kept hearing time and time again from doctors, ‘You just need some sleep.’ It got to the point where every time they saw me, they asked, ‘Are you getting sleep? You need it badly.’ I started to doubt myself. Was I going crazy? But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. I decided to go with my gut. Enough was ENOUGH.”
“I never talked about FA with friends, classmates, or professors. I exhausted myself doing so much walking around campus, attempting to keep up and pretend everything was ok. I had tunnel vision; walking on my own was all I cared about… until I had no choice.”
“I was sitting down at the table while my four-year-old twins enjoyed their pretzels. All of a sudden, a little girl with blonde hair came and sat down. She really didn’t say anything, all she was doing was smiling. I thought, ‘I wonder if her mom is looking for her.’ I started to get more anxious.”
“I saw the pictures and read the words, but my brain couldn’t understand. My arms were tingling. Alarm bells were ringing in my head. ‘What? Why was this woman, his assistant, texting this to him?’ I slumped to the bathroom floor, then shakily stood and made my way down the stairs, using the handrail to prop me up.”
