We all have them—all mothers, that is. Those days that we wish we could erase from time and our memories. Days that mark our soul as frightening recollections of moments that almost ended our children’s lives. This day was like any other in that it began peacefully:...
I hoped that I wouldn’t get older. You’ve always said that to you, I would be forever 32. I hoped that my hands would always be strong and that my knuckles wouldn’t hint at overwork and that my skin would be sleek and unspotted. But there have been too many years of...
I wish I had known the answer to that before I had begun. In theory, it would be best to not experiment on one’s children. But isn’t that motherhood; a tempestuous journey that tries every bond imaginable between mother and child? Recently, I was at the bookstore and...
