99 Problems

Chanting

May 3rd, 2022 | by Tara Dorabji

A young woman holds the megaphone. “We are supposed to be getting taught about consent at SFUSD, but I haven’t been taught about consent in school.”


Birth Stories

Uterine Rupture

April 14th, 2022 | by Alyssa Sinclair

I am not sure I would call it the second time I gave birth, because it was more like it was just taken from me.


Foster Parenting

Black and white photo of a mother in a black hoodie holding an infant; an older, blonde-haired child cozies up to the mother and looks at the infant as well

What’s in a Name?

April 5th, 2022 | by Cathy Humikowski

We gathered again in the conference room, beige and windowless, at the end of a corridor in a hospital basement.


Loss

Close-up of a blonde-haired woman, circa the 1980s, with a big smile. She holds onto a bearded man with a cigarette.

My Mother’s Manhattan

March 29th, 2022 | by Natalie Serianni

One Cocktail Glass For twenty years, I’ve been haunted by the clinking ice in her glass, the whiff of nostril-burning



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  • #nicu #birth #breathe “My grandmother, the wildest woman I knew, never met my second child. Zayne Heather Logan passed away shortly before my own miracle entered the world.” “Just the day before I had been twelve years old and pregnant. Now I was recovering from the abortion. Only a year before that, in what felt like my body’s ultimate betrayal, I got my first period. It had come regularly every month since until it didn’t and I was nauseous every day. Even though I’d had sex for the first time just a few weeks before, it didn’t occur to me that I could be pregnant.” “I didn’t know if I would look back on this as the moment I met my son, or if it would become the memory of cradling someone else’s son in my arms—kissing his brand-new forehead, whispering congratulations, and then placing him back in the arms of his mother, never seeing either of them again.” “Their baby books sat waiting to be updated with their latest milestones. I’d become a ghostwriter, setting aside my own journal to document their days. It dawned on me: I’d been crowded out of my own home. Even worse, I’d participated in my own disappearance.” Write for us! Get all the details at muthamagazine.com. In our newest Ask a MUTHA installment, MUTHAs share their thoughts on how abortion access has affected their lives. “In 1984, when I had my abortion, there were approximately 300 clinics in the state and access was easy. When I went to get an abortion, I didn’t have to worry about pro-life demonstrators menacing me as I walked into the clinic, didn’t fear that the place might be vandalized or bombed or that a certified abortion provider could be murdered. After the procedure was finished, I felt nothing but relief.” “The truth is, it was hard to have an abortion. Not because I wouldn’t make the same choice again. But because it’s so fucking hard to live as a deeply empathic person who is nonetheless told that she has no morals and no appreciation for life.”

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