As a Digital Editor of Love What Matters, I'm here to pull on your heartstrings and make you smile. After spending nearly six years as a Digital Reporter for ABC News' "Good Morning America," I'm thrilled to continue sharing touching and inspiring stories that the world is so craving. We can all use more love in our lives -- now you've found the perfect place to get it.
“There the nurse was, taking this baby’s head and shoving it into my boob to start breastfeeding. ‘She’s your baby!’ I would tell myself, ‘just bond with her.’ I’ve made a huge mistake here.”
“‘WHYARETHEDISHESNOTINTHEDISHWASHER?’ Yes, I said it like it was all one word. ‘I dunno.’ My blood pressure shot to unsafe levels. Seventeen, yes, 17 cups in the damn sink. Not one. Not 5. Seven-fricking-teen.”
“I’m well aware that many parenting experts and the majority of the general public think it not wise to be your child’s friend. ‘You are their parent, not their friend,’ they say. What do I tell them? Nothing, because I don’t need them to approve of my parenting decisions.”
“I called his father. ‘What happened?’ He didn’t have much to say. I choked down tears and made my way to the hospital. After x-rays, I was told they suspected child abuse. My baby was bleeding in his brain due to non-accidental trauma. I immediately went to his father. ‘How could this happen?!’ He just kept repeating, ‘He was choking on milk.’ I was enraged.”
“Then one night, he poured me a glass of wine. I took a sip and saw something in the bottom of my glass. No… It can’t be what I think it is. Can I keep drinking and pretend I don’t see it?”
“I called my dad and he didn’t answer, which was weird. I drove over to his house. His car was there, but he wasn’t. I started panicking. I knew something had to be horribly wrong. My dad never ignored me. I called bars I knew he’d go to when he relapsed. I couldn’t find him. Finally, around 4:00 p.m. I called the morgue. The very kind woman informed us there was a John Doe. When she described him to us, I knew it was him.”
“My rolling circus attracts the attention of every rando in the tampon aisle. This party on wheels, I’ve found, invites a menagerie of questions about my sons’ multiplicity…”
“Someone once explained fertility to me and compared the journey to a tunnel. Some tunnels are short, and some tunnels are long. But at the end of every tunnel, there is a light.”
“My girlfriends still call, most of them don’t have kids yet. I try to be the old me, the one with a name. I’m getting tugged on, sucked on, and yelled at while trying to listen to their weekend plans. I remember those. I beg them to keep asking me to hang out even though I know I won’t be able to come. Hi, my name is Mom.”
“These days, I feel lucky if you want to be held for more than a few seconds. You are so busy exploring and playing. You already feel the need to be independent. To do it yourself. To have things your way. Your little baby features are fading away, and I can suddenly see a big boy peeking through.”
