There are few things I take genuine pleasure in, and one of those is eating. But what message does that send my daughter? By Jennifer Furner
mental health
In our small town everyone talked about everyone else’s business, but no one talked to us about why our mom was sick.
By Elizabeth Creaswick
During my treatment, and in the months after, my daughters watched me closely. By Jessica Wahlstrom
I order turkey, I plan to bake pies. The tears make my head pound but they will not fall. By Brianne DeRosa
My family used to be just like the ones who are going to benefit from the food drive at my children’s school. By Megan Hanlon
The internet says this stage can last weeks or months or more. You think to yourself, those experts must be wrong because I can’t take another day. By Samantha Gratton
In the beginning, we relied on hats to shield Rosie from unwanted stares as we hoped the hair loss would be temporary. By Paula Quinn
She screams with a primal, gut-shriek: “I hate math! Math is stupid!” By Melissa Savoie
When I was a new mom, it was easier to shame and blame than sit with the fear that I had made the wrong choice. By Caroline Grobler-Tanner
She thinks when I say things like “balanced diet” what I really mean is “don’t eat sugar, it’ll make you fat.” By Lizabeth Sjaastad
After my diagnosis, there was no question in anyone’s mind that my daughter was going to be bottle-fed. By Jenny Leon
It’s a shock that J.K. Rowling—one of our family’s champions—has chosen to deny the very existence of our child. By Carrie Goldman
In the Before Time, I wouldn’t have allowed Call of Duty in our house, much less allowed him to play it for hours on end. By Deborah Williams
With all the changes in 2020, one thing has remained constant: being bullied is a traumatic experience for kids. By Lori Orlinsky
Step Three: Layer 2 healthy parents and 1 naturally skinny sister. By Amye Archer
I am carrying my own maternal fears right now and also those of my patients. By Ilyse Dobrow DiMarco
My daughter was born four weeks after I was diagnosed with breast cancer. By Jenny Leon
I watched my mother starve herself for years, food as a kind of inhaled medication. By Micah Stover
What if you are the best mother you can be and it’s still not enough to save your child? What if one mistake is the fatal bite? By Lauren Weiss
There have been many moments when I have simply broken down, walked upstairs and fallen face-first on my bed. By Tara Mandarano
My son loves to eat at Grandma’s house, he gets real cream and real sugar. Unlike the dishes I cook, which are vegetarian or Paleo or Whole30. By Elizabeth Newdom
It’s both fascinating and frightening that my two-year-old son, Aksel, is starting to count. By Tommy Mulvoy
I heard the baby crying again, I didn’t get up. I was too hungover. By Victoria Vanstone
My kids are used to my loud, Jewish-mom complaining—but not this unkindness. Not this anxiety-fueled rage. By Hannah Grieco
The last time I stood here I tried on eight dresses. I was fighting the side effects from chemo. I had no hair. By Krista Genevieve Farris