Browsing the "pandemic" Tag

Poetry

Postpartum depression during a pandemic

February 15th, 2022 | by Amy Mattes

The house is living and breathing windows lifting curtains let old air out. An air between seasons. Her body is living and breathing open organs stretching in the


99 Problems

Home

January 20th, 2022 | by Jade Sanchez-Ventura and Ro Agents-Juska

Though I’ve lived, mostly happily, in the same apartment for seventeen years, I spent this past September and most of


Birth Stories

Bloody Show

January 4th, 2022 | by Ariel McCleese

I said I missed my mom, and the nurse started crying and told me to think of the women upstairs, the ones who have COVID and are doing this alone.


Poetry

History Lesson

October 12th, 2021 | by Margaret Elysia Garcia

(The president said Lat-tee-nex aren’t getting vaccinated because we fear documentation and deportation.  Demoralization. Department chair: don’t they realize they’re


Poetry

Breathing Lessons

September 8th, 2021 | by Katie Hoogendam

My mother died of a lung disease,one that stalked her all my life. In kindergarten, I was pulled from class, taken to the hospital,


Families

Bath: HOME IS WHERE WE

June 25th, 2021 | by Jade Sanchez-Ventura and Ro Agents-Juska

Can I ask this? Where in this pandemic have I sought and found pleasure?



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  • “A disabled person’s body-mind in public makes other people uncomfortable, because they’re reminded that disability is part of the human experience. It’s not that my kid is so distracting! It’s about ableism. It’s not our family’s or our kids’ job to absorb that.” “I don’t know exactly where this conviction that I would “smash” motherhood came from, but when I was pregnant, I held firmly to the belief that life with a baby would be my old life without a baby + baby. A simple equation that would equal all the thrills and edges of my old life, with the added joy of sunlit mornings in bed with my husband and a cute, cooing baby between us.” “It does not escape me that critiques about expectant Black women like me are also rooted in misogynoir.” “You’ve already told me that story,” he said. Switching gears, he asked, “Why isn’t my father around?” #breastfeeding #parenting #fuckit #protest #teenagers #sexualviolence “Over time, Anabelle learned to talk about her feelings. She said saw her birthmother in the sky. She drew a picture of grief moving through her body like water. When she had more language, she began to talk about her losses.” “I’m not sure why I read that poster and thought that it applied to other mothers, other people’s children. But it probably has something to do with the shock I felt two years later when a neurologist confidently diagnosed “Autism Spectrum Disorder” and I responded with at least twenty “What about…” type questions. I had described my dynamic, interesting, loving toddler to this doctor, and her response sounded dire and clinical. That poster was the same. All of it seemed so unfortunate.” “Someone hit the call button. No one came. Someone rushed to the nurses’ station; still no one came. The contractions, a creature, twisted my uterus, lancing its nails. I tried to breathe through them, but there was no space, no time.”

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