“We went to see Cora for the last time. I washed her hair and gently cleaned her body with a washcloth. I dressed her in our favorite headband and swaddled her tightly. Her sister gave Cora a kiss on her forehead. We told her to say goodbye. ‘Bye bye, Baby Cora.’ My mom took our eldest away so she could pass with my husband and I alone. She was so beautiful, looking at us with such deep love in her eyes.”
“‘Is that me? I’m a baby?!,’ my 3-year-old asks as we swipe through a photo album on social media. ‘That’s you when you weren’t even 1 yet!’ He’s intrigued. Growing up, my mom took pictures of us only at special events. Over the years, those photo prints became scarce. The existing ones lived in a box somewhere, lost or damaged. I want something different for my children.”
“My dad found me. I was covered in bruises, rug burns and cuts head to toe. He called 911, immediately searched for those pills and found both bottles were empty. I have no recollection of taking any pills. I woke up to my best friend standing over me. ‘Why are you looking at me like I died? Where am I?’ They were my prescriptions from MY doctor. I wasn’t getting them off the streets, so I couldn’t possibly have a problem.”
“I never planned on writing my story. While I was more fearful of the future than I care to admit, I remember leaving the courthouse the day I filed for divorce feeling like I could breathe for the first time in years. It was the feeling of freedom. For years, I allowed the world to wash over me, resigned to the lies I’d been told about who I was, who I wasn’t, and who I could never be. On the hard days, I have to remind myself to call these thoughts what they are: lies.”
“I was terrified my classmates wouldn’t see my worth. So, I threw rocks, said ‘bad words,’ and acted tough. The worst, though, is that I befriended kids I knew would let me get away with treating them terribly. I took advantage of them and their effortless kindness. I never want to be the cause of pain for anyone. It’s one of the worst things in the world to feel worthless. I know because I’ve been a bully to myself as well.”
“Having breastfed my little one for 18 months in a sleep deprived haze, the day after I stopped, I quickly went back to bad habits. All of a sudden I was ‘allowed’ to drink in excess again. I thought this was what I deserved. It was my time. ‘Wine o’clock’ was always on my mind. When 5 p.m. came, I took that as my cue for freedom. I started to drink myself into a state of numbness.”
“I walked home in a dress, but no underwear. I told my mom and dad I was staying with a friend, and then went into the operating room to have my right fallopian tube removed along with the baby that would never be. I went home the next day and said, ‘I feel like I have the flu’ and went straight to bed. My cry for help didn’t work. Nobody noticed. Nobody asked if I was okay. I knew if I didn’t start fighting for myself, I’d end up dead.”
“My OBGYN came in to check on me while not knowing where her own husband was at Ground Zero. I was in a hospital where they were calling in extra nurses and doctors for the casualties that should be arriving, but never came. Everyone knows where they were on 9/11, but I lived that day in a strange reality.”
“I felt awful, like I had hundreds of other mornings. But this day, something was different. My friend told me a story of my actions. While blacked out, I ran behind the bar where my ex worked. I started hitting him. Something in me snapped. THAT was my breaking point. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was quiet for a moment, then I said with tears in my eyes, ‘That’s it. I’m done.’”
“This stage of life? It’s hard, you guys.”
