Every fertility journey is different. You never really know what somebody else is going through. By Amy Klein
marriage
Eve Rodsky’s book Fair Play presents a hands-on, systematic solution to how to share the division of labor at home.
We would take a million pictures of our child but none of us. Forget to schedule date nights because we never needed them before. By Elizabeth Newdom
“You’re a different person,” my husband said. This was years ago now. Thank god he was right. By Samantha Shanley
My father was an every-other-weekend dad, then a once-a-summer dad and, finally, a phone-it-in dad. Then we lost touch. By Stephen J. Lyons
Our married life was no longer comfortable. There was no indulgence, no whispered promises of sweet dessert. By Hannah Grieco
It had been a long time since I’d heard her laugh. It felt like clouds parting. By Stewart Lewis
My plate is full, blessedly so. So why can’t I stop thinking about having another baby? By Daisy Alpert Florin
My confidence in myself as a parent, a wife, and a woman were badly shaken. I was a mess. By Diane Pomerantz
The sparks of ambition, even in the middle of life, can become flames. By Sonya Spillmann
Motherwell interviews Andrea Jarrell about her debut memoir, which touches on themes of motherhood, desire and vulnerability.
I love my baby, but I miss my relationship with my husband terribly.
By Abigail Rasminsky
I had to let go of the idea that I was the only one who could meet my children’s needs.
By Samantha Shanley
I could not teach my stepdaughter, this girl so quickly becoming a woman, that to stay was always right.
By Katie Gutierrez
What if our split isn’t the best thing for her? What if it does irreparable harm?
By Robin L. Flanigan
I needed to embrace the role of supportive parent, to leave the coaching to my daughter’s coaches. But I just couldn’t do it.
By Keith Landry
For now, what I hope my kids see is that family life is a team effort. We may run different plays than other families, but we’re only interested in the home field win.
By Ann Cinzar
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