Relative Motion

Samantha Wassel Poetry

And when the motion finally slows—just enough for him to recollect my presence, and reach out to me—is it only my imagination, or is the boy I lift in my arms clinging to me a little less tightly than the one I put in moments ago?

When Preparation Fails

Samantha Wassel Raising Multiples

You can prepare to have a baby. You can prepare to take care of a toddler. You can even prepare to raise a child. But you can’t prepare to be a mom.

I Smile at My C-Section Scar

Samantha Wassel essays

I see a portal to another world: a place filled with love, life, security—a nourishing utopia, where you formed your perfect little nose, your perfect little cheeks, the perfect little wrinkle between your eyebrows, all ten perfect little fingers, and all ten perfect little toes.

Being “Needy”

Samantha Wassel essays

You’re a big boy now, people say. You don’t need to crawl into bed with Mama in the middle of the night anymore.