Browsing the "Poems" Tag

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

SAHM: In Three Poems

July 16th, 2019 | by Ellie Hudson

“Identity” I have to decide if I am the type of mom who waits ‘til bedtime and secretly reads the


Body

POEMS by KUO ZHANG

February 11th, 2019 | by Kuo Zhang

Pregnancy I have known the secret joy of pregnancy, clip-clop of heartbeats in duet, high-fives across the belly, a mini-stove


Poetry

Bending Down: Poems

April 17th, 2018 | by Margo Hollingsworth

  Intrusion   “They don’t want them!” she whispered. The nurse anoints my forehead with a wet washcloth.   “Those


Poetry

Split: Poems

April 6th, 2018 | by Samantha Barrow

  After Weaning   My tits feel like corpses or rather split logs after tree   I’m feeding my body


Poetry

M.I.L.F and OTHER POEMS

April 19th, 2017 | by Charlotte O'Brien

October – Blood Moon For My Daughter, Who is about to Turn Thirteen 1. Ten years ago you were fat



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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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