“I told my social worker that we can’t do it this time. We said goodbye to a baby in late November. But that night I cried. I cried for a baby that I’ve never met.”
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“I told my social worker that we can’t do it this time. We said goodbye to a baby in late November. But that night I cried. I cried for a baby that I’ve never met.”
“When my mom walked in and saw me with the pills I had found, scattered across the bed, I knew I had hit rock bottom. I couldn’t even look her in the eyes. I remember sitting in the hospital, my whole family waiting outside. ‘I feel like nothing ever gets better.’ I am living proof it gets better.”
“It took my wife Shelly’s freak accident for that to change. I need to be here for the long-term. I am blessed I had a wake-up call to focus on my health.”
“My house gets cleaned at 10 p.m. That’s when my lists get made. That’s when I have all my ‘bright’ ideas. When I find myself up before the sun, all I want to do is cry and stare at the wall and go back to sleep. I can prepare for the day just as well at midnight.”
“I want you to tell me that some days are easier than others. I want you to tell me that some days are happier than others. I want you to tell me that, some days? Some days you just don’t know how you’ll ever push through. Sisterhood is created in the trenches.”
‘When I read the recent comments by influential and powerful people who want to make wholesale changes to education because we have ‘all this access to technology,’ I get upset. Schools are essential.”
“I saw dozens of smiling infants, cooing and adoring the hospital caregivers they know as ‘mamas.’ I witnessed an orphan, who we found in a diabetic coma, now thriving. The 6-year-old, who was severely emaciated, weighing only 9 pounds, now fully recovered and walking.”
“‘You need to stop what you’re doing or you’ll end up dead.’ I’d see him drive by with another woman. When my mom decided to divorce him, he didn’t show up. We stood at the court house and looked out the window from the top floor. The doctor approached my brother and I. ‘You have to make a decision to let him off the machines.’ We still had so many questions.”
“It’s looking for him in the early hours of the morning while the kids sleep in the car, praying I don’t find him dead on the road. It’s being quiet in the house because he claims there are cameras everywhere and people standing outside the window watching our every move. It’s tucking my kids into my arms and saying sorry over and over again. ‘Maybe this is his last one, just maybe.’”
“Were we selfish for not wanting him to be taken from us? We couldn’t blame her. She didn’t REALLY know us. She said to us: ‘You asked me to trust you, now I’m asking you to trust me.’ You could hear a pin drop in that room.”
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