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Motherhood changes us. Celebrate the ups and downs with these honest, insightful essays about becoming—and being—a mom.
He loved gymnastics. Gymnastics was his life. His life was gymnastics.
I didn’t know how heavy the load of parenting would be.
My children can have a memorable Christmas without pushing us further into debt.
Drowning is splashy and loud and frantic—isn’t it?
We need to speak critically about the existing systems that can fail women before, during and after pregnancy.
My preferences for this holiday season may not appeal to the masses, but they will bring joy to my family—and that's all we need.
I was too tired to have any feelings, if I'm being honest.
What's your household status?
Make yourself a hazelnut mocha and stare out your window instead of scrubbing the house spotless.
It’s natural to defer to your older child’s needs, but here’s a case for giving your new baby their own developmental attention.
And that's OK.
I’m writing this from the messy, raw, liminal space, where nothing is known and everything seems possible.
So much of becoming a mother involves giving up control.
When it comes to navigating conversations with our children about the Israel-Hamas conflict, here’s how Mr. Rogers got it right.
I didn’t want my kids to wait until they were in their 30s to see positive representations of themselves.
But women’s health is not just a “cultural moment.” Like other crucial issues, it should remain at the forefront.
Watching him ride that bike, I felt like I was watching him pedal off to college.
Amidst the Yuletide celebrations, was I due a surprise Christmas gift?
I needed to adapt, to give her space when she needed it and to be there with open arms when she was ready to let me in.
I want to rush in and take away all their discomfort.
