“Momma was crying last night,” my seven-year-old said. “She was crying because you left our family.” By Erik Raschke
I can’t imagine a time without children in my house, just as one month ago I could not imagine an evening without bath time. By Kelli Kirk
Eighteen years later, nothing has changed. All the firsts I had been praying for never came. By Shauna Actis
Fourteen teenagers and three teachers are dead who were not dead a few of weeks ago, and my house is falling apart, and my children are at school. By Brianne DeRosa
Home is where I raised them, watched them grow and then take flight. Maybe that’s why every time they leave now, it’s a reminder of when they left for good. By Morgan Baker
The sparks of ambition, even in the middle of life, can become flames. By Sonya Spillmann
Before I had kids, my mother told me: “Your career is the only thing you will ever have that is entirely your own.” By Adrienne So
I wanted to laugh and not think about my mortality. I wanted to attend functions at my son’s school without a perfectly tied head scarf. By Kai McGee
Motherwell interviews Andrea Jarrell about her debut memoir, which touches on themes of motherhood, desire and vulnerability.
Our family square is about to become a triangle and I’m not sure my son will be ready for it.
By Randi Olin