So much of who we are has to do with how we think about our own parents and our own childhood.
loss
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
I sent you a bowl of black stones because of the hardness of loving a child for exactly who he is. By Brianne DeRosa
If my belly was round and full of baby, would I hate my body less? This body that betrayed me. By Brittany Wren
It had been a long time since I’d heard her laugh. It felt like clouds parting. By Stewart Lewis
Time heals so much of what goes wrong in life, but the memory of what happened to Mum on that day still makes my body react. By Clover Stroud
You will be in your slippers, making waffles, and suddenly remember that your mother is dead. By Brianne DeRosa
After we gave it all to Goodwill, I lived in fear every day that I would see somebody else wearing my mom’s clothes. By Kandace Chapple
“Momma was crying last night,” my seven-year-old said. “She was crying because you left our family.” By Erik Raschke