By Tammy Kleinman. Picking in the orchard, she chooses the ripest berries—the succulent, dripping fruits that drop effortlessly into her palm. I can see her struggling to resist a taste. This is what she wants, and yet, maybe not yet. Maybe she can wait.
By Kathy Glow. Some of what motherhood is to me I chose for myself. I chose to have lots of babies in rapid succession. It’s what I wanted. I even secretly prayed for twins.
By Shenna Fitzgerald. Our son loves this story, and his questions about adoption have been fairly easy to field. That is, until an innocuous conversation about genetics and blood relations came up with another child.
By Kate Hopper. Dr. Lanning says something else, but I don’t understand. I turn to her. Her lips are moving, but no sound is coming out. Finally I say, “What does this mean?” It’s a question I’ve asked myself a dozen times since Stella was born, but this is the first time I’ve said it out loud, to a doctor.
By Rachel Turiel. Col was heartbroken and mad, and I was called out of my domestic smugness to mediate, to furnish the right words – the ones that would invoke instant empathy and resolution – the ones that I wish were always on the tip of my tongue, but instead, seem to be floating around the next zip-code.
By Jennifer Savage. I watched Lucille struggle this week with being left out. The girl/girl business starts early, friends. I stepped in and held her as she cried. A little while later she got stung by a bee and started howling. Four other children came over to check on her and give her a hug.
By Robin Farr. I didn’t know I was a perfectionist until I became a mom. But it’s been in me all along. I think it’s an innate thing rather than something that was cultivated in me.
By Eden Atwood. In the loneliness of my own childhood, I dreamt about what becoming a mother would be like. How I would do things differently. How I would love you and how we would laugh together. All the wrongs would be made right and life would be healed and I would feel complete.
By Heather Thuesen. It took me two nights and nearly three days to get home to my son because of the closed roads.
My children attend a lovely school which requires that we attend camp each fall. While intellectually I see the point of such an experience, as one mother so eloquently put …
