People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

The Mother I Was, the Mother I Am, and the Mother I Wish I Could Be

Brian and Carter have gone to bed, closing out a day that I’d just as soon have skipped.┬áThere was yelling today. Also some stomping on the stairs, several episodes door slamming, and, of course, the requisite cursing.

I wish I could say that all the bad behavior belonged to the small person who has . . . → Read More: The Mother I Was, the Mother I Am, and the Mother I Wish I Could Be

Disposable People

When I was barely pregnant with Jacob, my friend Rachel had a baby, a little girl named Gabrielle. A lovely, tiny thing with a shock of black hair I was compelled to pet whenever I held her, she was Rachel’s first baby.

Six weeks later, SIDS, that terrible night thief of babies, stole Gabrielle . . . → Read More: Disposable People

On (not) Getting a Diagnosis

When Carter was brand new and cried all day and night, we thought at first that he had unusually severe colic. We’d been blessed first with three easy babies; the bill had finally come due.

But he was not a regular baby who cried a lot. He also hardly slept; he didn’t interact with . . . → Read More: On (not) Getting a Diagnosis

Driftwood

Depression is rage spread thin. ~George Santayana

I hate everyone and everything. Even the coffee I brought with me to my desk is all wrong. I hate flavored coffee, and I hate the person who used up all the regular coffee and didn’t go buy more.

I hate that the person who did that . . . → Read More: Driftwood

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