Sometimes, I marvel at the irony of its smallness, wondering how a hand so small can hold so much.
When Preparation Fails
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
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”
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.
Refrain
A poem to my unborn children.
I Once Was Lost
I push
forward, moving
to a sound—
Hope Beyond The Abyss: An Eating Disorder Testimony
Recovery is a journey, not a destination. It’s a long road, and sometimes there are detours. Sometimes there are speed bumps. Sometimes there are accidents.
My Son Sees Me, Not My Eating Disorder
Because the person he sees is the person I know I can be.
The Spaces We Share
Because you—both of you—will always share my heart.
Relative Motion
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?