By Andrea Laughery. This scar seals the place from where my son entered the world and took his first breath.
Even though I’ve rethought the whole ‘giving birth to twelve kids’ thing, I still like the idea of raising a family.
I hope that at some point, someone has taken the time to thank you properly, not the simple sort of thank you we offer daily out of politeness, but the genuine, heartfelt kind you deserve.
There is pain in birthing. And there is pain in birthing cesarean that one who has not experienced it simply cannot understand.
You gave me a name I never had before: Mama. Everybody has a birth story, a narrative that reveals how their soul navigated itself into the world. This is yours.
Here is what we don’t acknowledge nearly often enough: there is a difference between stoicism and strength.
My mother, who had given birth to five children, once described childbirth like a train you get on. Once you’re on it, there is no getting off—you ride it until you reach the station.
I didn’t have a birth partner. I had a seven-year-old who watched birthing videos with her fingers in her ears and eyes shut tight.
I am alone in a hospital room nine months later. Dana and our unborn child were just carted away by a swarm of doctors.
By Erin Britt. The births of my three children told in a series of vignettes.
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