My mom died of breast cancer when I was 15. At first, I missed the short-term comforts she brought. No more Chinese-takeout dinners on Friday. No more special trips to Canada or Florida. Soon I missed the lack of love and attention. I grew to believe there
Read more →A few weeks ago I told my 4-year-old son Noah I was returning to work full-time. He and my daughter Syma, who’s almost 2, were sparring and fussing, and I was spent. “Mommy will get a job in the city. I’ll be gone all day. Just home
Read more →Today was my son’s last day of preschool. Noah sang, clapped, marched across a bridge bedecked with balloons and ate Popsicles, all with his typical fervor. I’m sure there was a trace of melancholy somewhere. Maybe that trace was in my heart, but still. His loving cadre
Read more →The idea of inducing labor has terrorized me since the birth of my son. It’s synonymous with what I still consider my biggest failure—not allowing Noah to be born on his terms. Instead, I tried to schedule him into my life. I wish I could return to
Read more →Amanda* is dying from breast cancer. In her early 40s with several young children, she recently told her husband that after she’s gone, she’d like him to remarry. Cancer drugs have sustained her life but stolen her hair. She takes them now to prevent her softening bones
Read more →My 4-year-old son Noah has discovered how functional his pants are. He can, for instance, jam Legos into the pockets as he darts out to school in the morning. He can shove even larger things down his pant legs. I noticed Noah’s revelation after a recent trip
Read more →When my first child was born, I was unqualified for the job. If there were a test, I would’ve failed. Knowing my ineptitude, doctors and nurses would’ve snatched Noah and shooed me out of the hospital. A hormonal haze clouded me into thinking I did fail. What
Read more →My son turns 4 years old today. So do I. Noah’s birth was my rebirth. I awakened to the glorious, to the awful. To the sweeping power of a God who saves, redeems, loves. For awhile I mourned the death of my old self. Had life gone
Read more →One of my goals for the new year is to read more e-books. Not just books–stacks of them line my desk, nightstand, bathroom. I even borrow my children’s library books. Bedtime stories are balm to a mother’s day-worn soul. Holding books, seeing and smelling them; this is
Read more →I’m working on a book proposal and looking for potential sources to interview. My proposal is focused on women who have brutal first brushes with motherhood. That includes anything along the lines of: a difficult pregnancy or complicated birth postpartum depression/anxiety, postpartum post-traumatic stress disorder, postpartum obsessive-compulsive
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