Browsing the "Motherhood" Tag

On Balance

Contraction

July 19th, 2022 | by Cara Howard

It dawned on me: I’d been crowded out of my own home. Even worse, I’d participated in my own disappearance


Milk

First Unbroken Sleep

June 13th, 2022 | by Anna Laura Reeve

After four and a half hours of unbroken sleep       I feel like a swan  The ‘trying to


Adoption Stories

Promises

February 8th, 2022 | by Leah Ongiri

We open the door in the morning  It is dark and rainy like all morningsThe smell of wet earth rises like


Poetry

Why he is not my little boy

March 9th, 2021 | by Wandajune Bishop-Towle

Too tall.  Born too late, too old. His eyes—lakes of day not brown like mine. He sings too high too loud in a


Families

See Saw

December 28th, 2020 | by Jill Stukenberg

How old or what grade are your children? I have one son who turned seven in May. That was after



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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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