love more

‘One minute ago you were glued to my side, now there’s enough space between us to fill the Universe. Be patient with me as I learn to let you go.’: Mom pens touching letter to her tweenager, ‘I hope my love will always bring you back for more’

“I dreamed about you before you were even a possibility. I dreamed of you when the doctors and tests said no. I dreamed of you while I carried you in my heart and soul. And then, suddenly, you were there. Your tiny hand wrapped around my finger in an empty hospital room, looking up at me with big eyes, asking me to love you. Be patient with me as I learn to let you go.”

‘I growled, ‘Get in the house. NOW!’ I kicked my heels off. I looked up to see the neighbor across the street watching.’: Mom urges ‘don’t give up, mama – the things that overwhelm you are what make life worth living’

“I angled my body toward the door and pointed. My mom eyes were out in full force. My tiny human was lying in the grass of the front yard, kicking and screaming words I could not make out because he couldn’t fit a dinosaur into his frog backpack. I think I heard something about me being a bad mommy. So you know what I did? I completely lost it. LOST IT.”

‘If you start to feel like you don’t like it, you can tell me to stop,’ I said. ‘I don’t like that,’ he practiced.’: Mom turns playful tickling with son into consent lesson, ‘We all deserve to enjoy living in our own bodies’

“My 3-year-old asked me to tickle him. Tickling is one of those activities that can move quickly from fun into boundary transgression. I wanted to connect with him playfully in the way he was asking and model safe physical experiences at the same time. It’s not one serious, awkward conversation. It’s not The Sex Talk you’ve known and dreaded. It’s a foundation built over years.”

‘Why would you do this to yourself? This is just bizarre.’ It’s hard to look in the mirror and see the damage I’ve done.’: Woman shares her history of self-mutilation and bulimia

“Sometimes I’d hit a vein and the blood would shoot out in an arc, creating stripes across the mirror and pouring into the sink. I was cutting away everything seemingly imperfect. Pulling out little threads which turned out to be nerves, partially paralyzing my lower lip and bits of my chin. I still didn’t stop.”

‘I’d been holding back tears all morning. In public, they fell out. A sweet friend saw me go down. She was behind me in seconds.’: Widow urges people to talk about mental health and be ok showing grief in public

“She comforted me while I fell apart. And then, it happened. What always happens when I let anyone see any emotion other than ‘ok’: I got irrationally mad at myself for crying in public. Losing my husband and becoming the soul provider for our daughter has sent me into a deep panic.”

‘I went on countless job interviews, but I didn’t ‘look the part.’ The second they saw me, the whole vibe changed.’: Woman with Nemaline Rod Myopathy embraces disability, ‘I want to be seen for the smart, fun, boss babe that I am’

“After graduation, I was excited to take on the world! That feeling quickly died. Every employer assumed I wasn’t qualified. I didn’t have a specific ‘look,’ or I didn’t fit the part. I realized I didn’t want to work someplace where I would be judged by the way I look, not by the work I contribute. Appearances matter, but they matter even more when you’re disabled. And the hardest part about being disabled isn’t being disabled. It’s fighting to be seen as an equal.”

‘May your children please step out?’ The ultrasound tech seemed irritated. I was congratulated and given a death sentence all in one.’: Grieving mom knits miniature crochet hats for angel babies

“I pegged it as her being annoyed I had my kids with me at the hospital. I later realized she was just trying to keep it together. Smiles quickly faded as doctors, nurses, and specialists crowded in the room. I called my mom in the middle of her workday. ‘What’s going on? Is everyone okay?’ For the first time ever, I answered, ‘No.’ It was soul-crushing. My baby and I were both at risk.”

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