We wanted our children to have the same sense of wonder and excitement we did, to face the world like it was pile of Christmas presents waiting to be opened.
By Adrienne So
After infertility, she’s not the parent she thought she’d be.
By Amy Klein
It is an awesome responsibility to be entrusted with the care of someone’s child, but for the first time I’m less anxious about it.
By Teri Carter
Both my children hate being around me and water—I’m the parent whose urgent, borderline hysteria ruins all the fun.
By Christie Tate
Is it possible to love being a mom without knowing why?
By Christine Organ
The chance to remember myself at that age, in a way that I often don’t when I wrangle with my own teens, was illuminating.
By Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser
What can be seen as the messy complications of a blended family are, when viewed differently, just more branches on a beautifully tangled family tree.
By Elizabeth Maria Naranjo
Cousins are more complicated than I’d realized. They give more than I thought possible, but they also demand more than I’d ever known.
By Antonia Malchik
Children are resilient little creatures and they don’t need our eyes on them, our attendance at every single school function, to know how profoundly they matter.
By Lauren Apfel
The idea of my son scanning the stands for my face and not finding it is a horrifying thought, a cross I cannot seem to bear. By Randi Olin
My entire life had become an existential paradox: I could endure neither my love for the baby nor the idea that he could be lost to me. By Catherine Newman
If my partner and I had been straight we might have all nodded to each other in recognition, but because we are queer, our difference is what stands out.
By Jennifer Berney
Would having another baby after 50 salve my grief over my children leaving home?
By Andrea Jarrell
Does the minute matter? If they didn’t know about it, would Baby A tease Baby B less? Would she watch out for her less? My hunch is no.
By Francie Arenson Dickman
That little boy who would cling to me is now a teenager who opts to spend much of his time in his room. By Randi Olin
I don’t think we are a family who loves each other in some especially profound way. We have just made the words that stand for our love a part of the verbal dance we do.
By Lauren Apfel
Seven years on, my son is still a sucker, thumb mostly, but also occasionally sleeves, zippers, the pointed snout of a stuffed animal.
By Daisy Alpert Florin
I am a mother and I am a lawyer. I don’t know how to reconcile these parts of myself, and I feel very alone in this struggle.
By Carinn Jade
I can’t help feeling sad for all the things I imagined his childhood to be, but now know it won’t.
By Zsofia McMullin