Breathe With Me By Becka Mack - 36

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’ M HERE, writing the acknowledgments at the end of a book I thought I’d never finish, at the end of a series I never could have dreamed would be so loved by so many incredible readers. The truth is I wouldn’t be here—sitting in front of my computer, writing these words—without all of you who fell in love with this fictional hockey team and threw your support at me like fistfuls of confetti. And I think that’s why that it only makes sense to start my list of thank-yous with…

You.

You took a chance on me with Consider Me , a book that was (allegedly) too long, too messy, with the most over-the-top man who was every bit obsessed with Oreos as he was with his girlfriend. You laughed with me through Play with Me and didn’t question a single dildo that soared through the air. You screamed at me through Unravel Me , because you didn’t sign up for the anxiety I was putting you through. You cried with me through Fall with Me, both tears of laughter ( we knew the bouncy castle wasn’t gonna make it ) and tears that hurt like hell ( why did I have to hurt the grumpy hockey player so? ). And now you’ve willingly walked into Breathe with Me , arms wide open, ready to have your heart torn out. You’ve put your trust in me over and over again—to make you laugh, swoon, cry, rip your heart out of your chest, set it on fire, and then somehow put it back together again while simultaneously driving up your therapy bills (I’m not paying for those, BTW; sorry, you knew what you were getting into). I can’t tell you what it means to me to have such an amazing group of readers behind me every step of the way as I’ve written about this wackadoodle family we’ve fallen so in love with. My hope for all of you is that you find a family who loves you the way this family loves each other. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for being here.

To Anthea, none of this would be possible without you. Thank you for taking a chance on me, for giving my books a voice in such a loud world, for understanding every character and the stories I wanted to tell. Thank you for your never-ending patience and compassion. I am truly so lucky and grateful to have you on my team.

To Stuti and Pete, because nobody champions me as hard as you do. In the midst of one of my hardest, most challenging years, you have been such a bright light for me, and I would not have been able to do this without your support, guidance, and patience.

To Brittany, Cayley, Sierra, Hayley, Cassie, and everyone on my incredible, huge team at Simon & Schuster, Zando and Slowburn, Podium, and Park, Fine & Brower—you are all so wonderfully amazing, kind, and patient, and I am eternally grateful to be part of such a wonderful community.

To the women in my life who have been such important pieces of my journey (Erin, Ki, the Hannahs, Sophie, Megan), I am so lucky to be doing this with you. I love you.

To Miss Bizzarro, because some twenty-two years ago you left such a lasting impression on me, and years later when I wondered if writing a book was something I could do, your encouraging words from long ago shouted at me that I could.

To my kiddos. I think you two must have broken a world record for sick days while I was writing this book. On my toughest days, I look at you, and I’m reminded why I’m doing all this, changing into the person I want to be, doing the hard stuff. You are my heart and soul.

And, as always, to my brother. I felt you here more than ever as I cried my way through writing this story. Maybe that’s why it took me so long to finish it, because I didn’t want to lose your voice. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I always manage to find you when I need you most. Thank you for showing up for me, even now, seven years gone.

Finally, I would be remiss to not send an extra special thank-you, from the bottom of my heart, to the readers who have experienced any level of infertility. I know this wasn’t an easy read. Everybody’s journey is different, and our endings are not all the same. But I hope that, at some point through this book, you felt seen. I hope you felt less alone, because isolation is one of the most crushing pieces of infertility. I hope you remembered that it’s okay to not be okay, and that asking for help doesn’t make you weak. I hope you remembered that your body is beautiful and capable of amazing things, even on the days you look in the mirror and hate everything you see, because your worth isn’t and never has been tied to reproducing. I hope you remembered that you’re deserving of love, and the one that needs it most is you. But most of all, I hope that wherever your journey takes you, you find peace.

Thank you for coming with me on this journey.