Elizabeth Grow is an editor and content writer for Love What Matters. A graduate of Utah State University, she now lives in Las Vegas with her husband and two dogs. Elizabeth loves sharing stories that raise awareness for neglected populations within our society, particularly the mentally ill. She loves music, any kind of DIY craft project, and a good movie.
“Mama, I’ll grab the wine and the s’mores, then I’ll meet you next to the dumpster fire so we can watch it burn together.”
“He bought me a Mother’s Day card our first year together. One of those obnoxiously HUGE ones with a heartfelt message that both validated my emotions and offered hope for my future. He was the first person to truly acknowledge my motherhood after placement.”
“I wish they would have told me about how long it took to heal. And what it felt like when everyone was holding the baby and nobody was holding me.”
“You don’t have to put mom in your professional bio. Not required in the least! But if you do, I just want to say thanks. Because someone else out there might really need to see it. To know you carry little hearts in your heart, and around your ankles, too.”
“I’m calculating how much screen time is acceptable. I’m planning a swift bedtime routine, a quick escape. I want to longingly sink into my own sheets, the cotton becoming my second skin.”
“They didn’t ask for this. They never chose this. They don’t get to walk away… and I’ll never walk away from my kids.”
“I was grateful for the darkness on the drive home so she couldn’t see the tears streaming down my face. The radio loud so she couldn’t hear the sobs I was choking back.”
“Don’t give up on me. I know you’re there. Give me some time, and I’ll come back to you.”
“It’s only through the hard days that I get stronger. It’s only after those long, painful sobs that my tears turn to courage. It’s only after I wallow in the valley of sorrow that I’m able to find the strength to climb back up that mountain and choose joy again.”
“Every morning, I wake up, glance at the box of your clothes next to my bed, and say to myself, ‘Today is the day.’ But I can’t.”
