“At 8 years old, my pediatrician said, ‘You need to eat more salad.’ My eating disorder started to spin out of control. ‘I’m sorry my body terrifies you, it’s healthy. I refuse to hide because I’m larger than you’d like.'”
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“At 8 years old, my pediatrician said, ‘You need to eat more salad.’ My eating disorder started to spin out of control. ‘I’m sorry my body terrifies you, it’s healthy. I refuse to hide because I’m larger than you’d like.'”
“I didn’t get any more details than that. I hung up, flew out the door. ‘Who are you here to see?’ the ER receptionist said to me. The girl beside her hit her on the arm. ‘She is THAT baby’s mom!’ She then asked for my insurance card. ‘Please, I need to see my baby!’ Before I walked through the door, I thought I heard a baby cry. I thought I had more time.”
“21-year-old me would have fallen over dead at the very idea of another woman marrying the love of my life. Oopsie. That was a tiny bit crazy.”
“I felt this innate need to be liked. When people didn’t like me? Guys, it would haunt me. I’d tweak my personality to become what I thought would be more appealing. I’d get bullied. I spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about it. Was it because my family wasn’t rich? That I wore the wrong clothes? Thank God I don’t make the cut.”
“At 10, Gabriel watched his little sister deteriorate, not being able to help her or expressing his feelings…keeping it all inside. He didn’t sign up for this, but he is our unsung hero.”
“Purple has always been Mom’s favorite color. She was a devoted, loving mother to 3 children. But at age 13, purple and I became enemies on an unforgettable day. My normally reserved Mother sat on her purple chair beside the purple table babbling nonsensically about her purple 10-dollar bill. That night was the first of many times Mom was hospitalized.”
“‘Click, click, swoosh, swoosh’ was all I heard as my 8-year-old daughter emerged from her bedroom. It was just after 7:30 a.m. – she was wearing silver high heels and a floor-length, red, jeweled, ball gown. My initial thought was, ‘She must think it’s Saturday.’ It was indeed a school-day. Not only that, it was the all-important, everlasting PICTURE DAY! Oh, she knew.”
“There are no visible wounds, but the pain courses through my entire being. I breathe in through my nose, blow out of my mouth. I’m alive, but being alive without my daughter hurts. I can’t wipe the tears away. It’s too much effort. I can’t move, even if I wanted to. I don’t want to pee. Eat. Shower. Brush my teeth. I see my dad’s face, and he wants me here. To hold on. To live.”
“Moms, you do you. Choose whatever you feel best for yourself and your baby.”
“I didn’t think about the dangers, even though my husband and I argued every night about it. He’s not my husband anymore. My other two children have now been adopted by another family. I lost everything – just because I took that risk.”