Before our first child was born, Brad and I took a series of classes to prepare us for childbirth. My Lamaze instructor told us I would need to breathe through each contraction while in labor.
My daughter calls me Dory. She even gave me a small travel-sized tin for cotton swabs because Dory is on the lid. Think back to the adorable movie Finding Nemo.
While walking into the opening session of a conference, my husband’s cell phone rang. He answered the call, then as the emcee welcomed us to the weekend, Brad leaned over and whispered in my ear.
For years my abortion story went untold. It was a secret held tightly by a locked heart – my worst nightmare and darkest memory. Not something I wanted to talk about.
As the basketball game heated up and the man-to-man coverage got up close and personal, he took an elbow to the ear. Seconds later his world went silent on the traumatized side.
Both his stature and demeanor were unimpressive to elite breeders. He was exercised with harsh tactics, under cruel restrictions, and publicly dismissed by a professionally acclaimed trainer. Eventually,
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