My Mother’s Faith

Mom had more faith than anyone I’ve met. Unshakable faith in Christ, really. I was reminded of that recently, as I rifled through a box of nearly forgotten items from my childhood. I landed on an autograph book, a gift for my tenth birthday. Among the few

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Uncomfortably Numb

Mothering two young children is sometimes like novocaine. It numbs my mind and makes me talk funny. On the toughest days, crafting a coherent sentence can be challenging. Not to mention holding a conversation about something complicated, like education policy. Once upon a lifetime ago, writing and editing stories about

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Attachment Parenting, 1970s-style

While researching my post on the social and economic costs of breastfeeding, I realized new moms often face scrutiny no matter how they feed their babies. Stories shared by friends and colleagues sent me reflecting on my own experiences, which some have called unusual. My mom nursed me until

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Mom’s Milk+Formula=A Happy Baby

Annabelle, a friend of mine for just about 20 years, used a mix of her milk and formula to create the optimal feeding plan for her son. She worried her approach might threaten bonding with her son and draw reproach from others. Two years later, her son

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The Joy of Nursing

After a briefly bumpy start, Kristin mastered the art of nursing her daughter, thanks in part to a lactation consultant. She breastfed for about two years, cherishing the midnight bonding that comes when baby cozies up to mom, and the rest of the world yawns to a

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‘Your Son Will Be Fat, Lazy and Sick’

My cousin Rachel encountered complications as she sought to nurse her first child, Reid, in the fall of 2008. When she switched to formula, a close friend scorned her decision, suggesting that formula would turn Reid into a fat, lazy and sick child. This added an unnecessary layer of guilt

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The Bright One

Shortly after my daughter’s arrival, I considered having another baby. Syma’s birth was so triumphant, I wanted to relive it. Nevermind 10 months of little or no access to some of my favorite foods and beverages. Or those last pregnant weeks of myriad aches and severely distorted sleeping positions. Even

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A Time for Everything

My son Noah turned three today. We celebrated in the heart of Chicago, visiting the neighborhood where we lived when he was born. Our jaunt left me wistful. City life holds the secrets of my salad days, when life was relatively unfettered. Our Streeterville high-rise was a stone’s throw from

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