First I Got Pregnant. Then I Decided to Kill a Mountain Lion.
On becoming a mom.
On becoming a mom.
On motherhood, writing, and the death of a friend.
On losing your mom.
After two months in the hospital, a mother finally got to take her premature baby home. Then she spent five years trying to convince him to eat.
Each year, about 50,000 women are severely injured giving birth. Half of these injuries could be reduced or eliminated with better care.
Why does prenatal care ignore the topic altogether?
On the cusp of delivery, a mother-to-be recounts the anxiety-laden path to parenthood.
In the midst of a national crisis, mothers addicted to drugs struggle to get off them — for their babies’ sake, and their own.
How a perfect vision of mother hood hurts moms.
A young mother and child, secluded in an apartment, face dangerous outside forces.
Melissa Cook is carrying triplets for a man she has never met, conceived with an egg that isn't hers. He only wants two of them, but won't let her keep the third. So she is suing, in the hopes that the court will arrive at a new meaning of parenthood.
Mother's Day triggers a wealth of memories and characters, past and present.
On the stories we tell ourselves about happiness and the indecent questions we ask women who decided not to become moms.
Magic, horror, and handmade children.
An Alabama woman took the equivalent of one Valium during her pregnancy. A few weeks after she gave birth, she became one of more than 1,800 new and expecting mothers arrested under the state’s chemical endangerment law.
On the magic of mother’s milk, which changes daily to meet the baby’s needs and can even start fighting an infection before anyone knows the kid is sick.
The stories of four women whose children joined the Islamic State.
A postapocalyptic world, motherhood, and centaurs.
"The girls were born the day before the world ended. You had eighteen hours of bliss and then the satellites went out, and with them the systems that sent news around the world. An asteroid, you heard people say. Huddled in your darkened hospital bed, your daughter’s mouths so pink and empty. Like birds. One asteroid and then another, and another, and then so many more that no one could keep track. They pounded into the oceans and the hills. The shaking made the earthquakes come, and from them, the volcanoes. The oceans rose. The clouds that came in the wake of the asteroids were thick and hard, studded with cosmic ash."
“Fuck everything, I thought. Bring on the cascading interventions. And they came.”
A mom on hitting menopause as her daughter hits adolescence.
An unhappy mother yearns for a return to her creative roots.
"It seemed to her now like motherhood was a constant fall, a never-ending tumble. After she’d finished her nursery fresco and looked for surprise shapes in her sky, Marlee couldn’t find any meaning in the edges and swirls she had created."
A mother and infant interact with neighbors and strangers.
"She looked down at the baby who was still nursing and recognized in him then not the unpolluted possibilities of a life not yet led, but instead a blissful unawareness of himself, or of responsibility, which allowed him a serene acceptance of all that was around him. The baby did not feel hungry for she kept him fed, he did not feel cold for she swaddled him, he did not feel wet for she kept him clean and dry, and when he was startled or unsure, she offered him her nipple, which he held tightly in his mouth before drifting off to sleep, where she imagined he dreamt of her, because she was all that he knew, all that he wanted, endlessly and relentlessly into the future."
Women who left their careers to be stay-at-home mothers reflect on the decision ten years later.
Thirty-one years ago, Joy Hunley’s daughter was adopted. At least that’s what the paperwork says.
Alabama’s chemical-endangerment law was passed to protect kids from meth labs. But is the prosecution of about 60 mothers – and the definition of “child” extended to “unborn child” – pushing its boundaries too far?