They are part of my life’s topography. Tiny specks on my map of choices, loves and losses, hurts and heartbreak. By Jordan Namerow
My daughter collapses after an endless tantrum and says, I wish I wasn’t adopted. By Tanya Friedman
This year is different. Maybe it’s because I’ve had the miscarriages. Maybe it’s because we both recently turned 42. By Angela Kidd
Next to Orion’s Belt are two dimmer stars. These are the babies I lost, one before each of my sons. By Julia Pelly
Our daughter asked good questions—what about the other baby? Were we sad? Why did it happen? By Cynthia Nuara
If my belly was round and full of baby, would I hate my body less? This body that betrayed me. By Brittany Wren
Nobody will send flowers. You don’t even have a face to conjure when you think of this child. By Maggie Downs
So why is it you want a baby, my therapist asks. Love, I answer.
By Bethany Marcel
Sorry, can’t make it to the sorority reunion. My thermometer says I’m ovulating!
By Amy Klein
All the years of doing and hoping, praying and sculpting—you wait to see if it worked.
By Lisa Romeo
What shocked me most about online dating was the absolute scorn for women who wanted, or already had, children.
By Dena Landon
My unborn kid had a 1 in 214 chance of having Down syndrome. Those seemed like pretty good odds.
By Amy Silverman
I was ashamed of my pregnancy losses. I felt I had been kicked out of some elite club of women with impeccably functioning wombs.
By Stephanie Sprenger