“The nurse smiled at me and nodded as I was overcome with emotion. Just hours after planning our daughter’s funeral, I was about to hold my child for the very first time.”
- Love What Matters
- Children
“The nurse smiled at me and nodded as I was overcome with emotion. Just hours after planning our daughter’s funeral, I was about to hold my child for the very first time.”
“He said, ‘They look hungry. Can we feed them?’ I paused because I really didn’t want my 4-year-old subjected to everything on the streets. He walked up and said, ‘Would you like a sandwich?’ At that point, I made the decision to do it once a week.”
“All she has to do is get two boys up, dressed and fed while breastfeeding the third.”
“‘Look at our sweet girls,’ we cooed. Had the last ultrasound been this quiet? Two identical, squirmy bodies appeared on screen. Six specialists took turns presenting the same results. ‘Both your daughters will require open heart surgery.’ Information on testing and abortion: excessive. I would again be facing those heavy double doors.”
“I must have looked terrified. The nurse said, ‘Don’t worry, this may be your first time, but it’s not our first time doing this.’ I strained to hear what the doctor was saying but couldn’t make it out. They’d occasionally laugh so I thought everything was going well. I felt a tug and I suddenly felt hollow. I remember asking, ‘Is she ok?’ She was only 2 pounds. The tiniest baby I had ever seen.”
“Wherever you stand, wherever your heart is, wherever your head is hitting the pillow, rest easy. If you are feeling like all the loose strings are about to come magnificently unraveled, you are not alone.”
“One tall football player who looked like a grown man, beard and all, pressed me with questions I didn’t want to answer. The classroom was full, and all eyes were on me. A group text with my colleagues had begun. Rumors of a gun in the school. My insides knotted up.”
“He crossed the road, climbed the bus steps, and I watched this time as his face appeared in the window. I waited for him to see me, to smile or wave or even to cry, but he never even looked at me. Instead, he looked at his wrist.”
“‘I never want you to meet my mother,’ he would tell me. I assured him she couldn’t scare me away. The cops told him to pack clothes and leave his mother’s house. ‘You aren’t going to arrest her for assaulting me?’ The cop replied, ‘You’re a big guy. There’s nothing I can do.’ I remember just shaking my head, leaning in for a hug. I love you more, Michael. But that love wasn’t enough.”
“24 hours after my daughter developed a cough, we were rushed down the halls of the children’s hospital. I asked the nurse if she was going to be okay. She told me, ‘I can’t tell you that she is. We will try our best.'”