Browsing the "cancer" Tag

Loss

Photo of a father holding his toddler daughter, circa the early 1980s

In the World Where My Father Is Dying

August 24th, 2021 | by Jennifer Samson-Acker

In the world before my father was dying, hospitals were hopeful, exciting, and filled with surprise—jelly smeared on my growing uterus, ultrasounds listening for the thump, thump, thump


Body

RIP’d Off

July 28th, 2021 | by Jessica Phillips Lorenz

When I first started writing about my family’s experience, I felt compelled to use photos of my daughter and me. She was my kid. I wanted people to see us.


99 Problems

My December Hate List

December 20th, 2019 | by Dartinia Hull

For the #haters. I begin hating everything around the first of November, at the first jingle of the first bell, and stay angry through December 29th


Loss

Memento

May 15th, 2018 | by Lia Langworthy

I dropped the piñata in the middle of Target when I heard the words from my OBGYN, on the other



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  • “Having my adult child at home has changed how we relate to each other. I have to keep reminding myself that I am no longer in charge of his life.” “Back when Dylan was 16 and should have been getting his driver’s license, he had brain surgery. Dylan has epilepsy. My husband and I lived in the hospital for two weeks. We were eating salads that my in-laws brought, a break from cafeteria food. #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.

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