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.
“Right now it feels hopeless. As you hold your lifeless baby in your arms, you’re silently pleading for a miracle you know won’t come. You’re aching, screaming inside. Every tear that falls on his still face feels like a piece of your soul trying to seep life back into him. Every breath you take feels like betrayal. How can you, when he is not. I know.”
“‘I’m sending you to the ICU right now,’ the doctor told my parents. ‘I want a second opinion,’ my father replied. ‘Frank, you don’t have time for a second opinion…’ It was like any typical Thursday in my world. I found it odd no one was there when I arrived, but hoped Mom had taken Daddy to the doctor for the headaches he’d been having. The phone rang. I could hear my aunt saying, ‘calm down, you’ve got to be strong for him.’ He had an aneurysm at the base of his brain. It could rupture at any time.”
“I quickly realized I wasn’t in a drug-induced haze. We then had 7 children inside a 3-bedroom house with 2.5 bathrooms. Showering required a schedule, and toilet usage was always something to fight for. We were cramped, we were on top of each other, BUT we were having a freaking blast! Ya’ll, it gets better. Two weeks later, my husband tells me he wants to quit his job. Sure, Nathan. Let’s adopt of bunch of kids, and use my stay-at-home mom salary to feed them. Genius plan.”
“I’d watched life treat my brother Glen so unfairly. I wanted so badly for something to go right for him. One night, he was extremely upset. My father picked my mom and I up. Glen called us to see where we were, and I still remember her last words to him. ‘We’re giving you space for the night, but we want to help you, Glen.’ The next morning, we were greeted by my dog at the front door. She was crying.”
“I think most people envision ‘the call’ as an instantaneously joyous occasion, the fulfillment of a dream. For us, it was a little more nuanced. A birthmother due in 2 weeks had chosen us, but there were potential health risks with the baby and the pregnancy. We didn’t expect a call this early. But less than 2 weeks later, we took her home at 24-hours old.”
“She had brainwashed me. She made me go through my social media accounts to explain my relationship with every female friend I had. If they didn’t meet her criteria, they needed to be deleted. My girlfriend ruthlessly pounded away at me with accusations of not being honest. It was torture. We would stay up all night arguing, the sun would rise, and I would go to work. She was obsessed with it.”
“A stray bullet killed my husband 3 days after I delivered our son. His cousin Shelby was holding my baby boy moments before he died. She started sleeping with me that night and over the next year moved into the room with my son and I. For us, this PTSD was life. We couldn’t see past the blood, hear past the screams. Our brains were frozen in time, and the only way for us to climb out, was to be with each other.”
“Snnniiipppp. My doctor used scissors to cut me open ‘down there’ to make it easier to push the baby out. ‘What did you do?!’ I asked the male, 50-year-old doctor, with fear in my voice. Even the nurses paused. Just 30 minutes before, my doctor told me, ‘I have somewhere to be at 7 o’ clock, so you better be able to push this baby out soon.’ My husband’s rage was rising. I squeezed his hand. ‘We can’t do this now.’”
“My husband whispered, ‘I have got to run to the drug store.’ It was clear this ‘quick trip’ would turn into a night of me wondering where he was. ‘I beg you. Don’t leave. Stay here. We can figure this out. I love you.’ He turned away as he muttered, ‘No, don’t tell me what to do.’ The next thing I knew, I was awakened by 3 strangers pounding on my front door. I got a lot more than one answer that night. My husband was having an affair.”
“We began frantically looking in the houseboat, in cupboards, under beds. I called out his name, begging him to stop playing games, hoping he was just playing hide ‘n’ seek. Looking over the river, it was so calm, but you couldn’t see a thing under the surface – it was just too murky. My mom came to the realization that my father needed to be called, to be told his son is missing. ‘It’s going to be okay; we are going to be okay,’ my mom repeated, trying to put on a brave face.”
