I love November. It is a time of fires and pumpkin pies, a time of apple cider and sweaters, scarves and even more snuggling. It is a time of darker days, of coming inward, of bare branches and crisp evening strolls. But out of
She’s had four natural births: two days of labor at home concluded with a hospital birth, a water birth in a birth center, a home birth, and, by accident, an unassisted home birth. Her name is Sarah Clark and she is a natural childbirth
My husband knew I was nervous because I’d asked him what I should wear at least three times that day. I still hadn’t lost my pregnancy weight and hadn’t realized that the hope of concealing my ripened motherly figure was just a symbol of
“How much more precious is a little humanity than all the rules in the world?” – Jean Piaget I’ll admit I haven’t yet entered toddler territory, but I do have a fast-growing boy nearing his first birthday. And with that has come an ever-moving,
an email response a bill to pay a friend awaiting a call the blinking of messages and alerts all mixed into a swarm of more obligations a pile of laundry to transfer into rooms another bundle to dry dishes to unload then load again
The night I wrote vows to my son was as still as the night I labored. I think more about the day of his birth. I dressed in a robe and drips of sweat; my hair was pinned back with determination, my eyes drifted
Our motherhood experience is a series of adventures we choose. We are the authors. We are the writers of the story. In difficult times, do you laugh or cry, sing or spank? In easy times do you praise yourself or call it luck? It's
Here’s the scene: There’s a baby. She’s crying. Hard. She’s in a stroller facing outward and her mother is pushing her. She is crying so hard her nose is running, her cheeks are flushed and tears are streaming from her eyes. She looks sick.