“I watched as water and vomit poured out of his mouth, eyes swollen and rubbery looking. Then a miracle happened! He showed sign of life. ‘There he is!’ My baby was still with me! This was 100% preventable. This happened in a pool full of people. A pool full of ADULTS.”
“My birthmark grew bigger and bigger. I got used to others pointing me out, whispering, laughing. Throughout my teenage tears, I avoided public places, family events. Any situation that involved people. I always put on a brave face, but in the background my confidence was constantly taking a hit. I couldn’t bring myself to face the world.”
“Don’t let the baby lie in a wet diaper. Does she have a pulse? How many times does he breathe in a minute? Throw in 2 anxious parents trying to survive the scariest time of their lives, and 1 older sibling who needs Paw Patrol stickers ASAP, and you have a very long 12-hour shift. What else would I be responsible for? How about peace.”
“She finally went into rehab. Not long after, she disappeared. One day, I had a guest. ‘Maya!’ I was excited to see her. She was super off and shaky. She didn’t even come into the house, just stood at the door. Immediately my heart sunk. I knew what was happening. I told her I loved her. ‘Please call me when you’re better.’”
“My weight went up and down. I refused to go into dressing rooms, refused to get clothes. When I got pregnant, I couldn’t help but worry about how much more ‘fat’ I was going to get. If you’re going to call me overweight, at least do it to my face so I can tell you what the HECK my temple has been through this last decade.”
“I had a nightmare. I was being taken to a home I didn’t recognize and into a room I had never been in before. I was in a wheelchair. My mom is telling me it will be OK. She is holding my hand, and I am crying. I tell her I want to go home, but she is telling me I am home. My heart aches for dad on the other side of the door, knowing he will lie there, waiting, for the next visit.”
“The nurse handed me a box of tissues. I remember pleading with my baby to be okay, my hand on my womb, tears running down. Immediately upon standing, I felt crazy amounts of blood trickling down my leg. I kept thinking that had to be everything, but I felt more released. A little boy. All ten fingers. All ten toes.”
“I felt so complete once my baby was in my arms, but unexpected tragedy struck again. This time, to me. After birth I was experiencing extreme back and chest pain. I thought it was just from breastfeeding and kept dismissing it. My gallbladder went haywire postpartum. My mom had to raise our miracle baby while I was fighting for my life. I couldn’t believe this was happening.”
“Today, I lost it. Finito. Buh-bye. GONE. I could feel my nerves fraying at the seams and in true me fashion, I cried. This is what no one tells you about. The hard stuff. If a friend shares her truth and says she’s in a funk, don’t tell her your life is sunshine and rainbows. Tell her you’re in the freaking arena with her.”
“The mom was gathering an unholy ton of luggage, and had turned away for just a moment. She looked up with absolute horror. People were suddenly shoulder to shoulder, crammed like sardines. I bent down to a sweet, terrified girl. Quiet tears fell before the shaking of her small sobs could be heard. There was no police. No security guard. No one, but her.”
