“What I didn’t know was my daughter had died earlier that morning. After what I had thought was a normal day, a sonogram showed a black and white blob of static, unmoving, rather than the beating of her little heart. Grief has been called a journey, but journey’s imply an endpoint, a destination. Grief is more like an ocean; it’s being thrashed around by waves, trying to come up for air, in a world where you must learn how to swim.”
“I sat there in shock. My husband danced around the room, whooping and hollering with his hands in the air like Rocky Balboa. Before I could even share in his excitement, the door closed. He told us the road ahead would not be easy, and I could ‘reduce’ down to 1 or 2. That snapped me back to reality. I told him I absolutely DID need to keep all of them.”
“Young moms are capable of doing great things with their lives with support and encouragement. Don’t write them off before they’ve even had a chance to prove you wrong.”
“Before I knew it, at least 20 different people were in the room. Doctors, nurses, and students got to see my newborn baby before I did. My husband slowly told me, ‘Honey, there’s something wrong with his leg.’ I’m sorry, WHAT? His skin was purple and black, marbled down his whole right leg.”
“Matthew became Madison only months before she started kindergarten.”
“This is why I feel it is important, when choosing mom friends, there’s certain qualities I look for.”
“The dreaded discharge day comes. You never anticipated how agonizing that would be. Before you leave, you make one last trip to see them.”
“I’m sorry but EXCUSE ME?”
“He sat down against the wall right beside the boarding line. People passed by him boarding the plane as he sat there in tears of amazement – his baby girl was making her debut into the world.”
“I was devastated. What kind of woman, what kind of wife was I if I couldn’t have a baby? My identity was completely wrapped up in all the wrong ideas.”
