I have a picture of your poop face. This thought runs through my head at least once a week if not a day. It’s my ace in the hole, pun intended, for when they really try my patience. I fantasize about showing it to their first date, the first time they’re awful to me in… Read More I have a picture of your poop face.
This is the closest I’ll ever be to you. I remember laying on my side, rubbing my planetary belly, looking out the window into the night sky, speaking to Nora in my womb. It was the closest she would ever be to me physically yet, even then, separate and unfathomable. Her own heart pattering away,… Read More Grasping at water.
One of the smartest decisions I have ever made was becoming a mother but it wasn’t as easy as checking off a list. We struggled to have a successful pregnancy to be able to have Nora. Jamie and I are Rh incompatible, my hormones are imbalanced from PCOS, and every subsequent miscarriage increased the scar… Read More Be my baby.
Jeans on me nowadays are like what a miniature waist cincher would be on a hot dog. Pointless and kind of disturbing. My lady parts swell up enough from chafing to convince a stranger they’re lost in the Sahara with the amount of camel toe I’m sporting. This pelvis is too long, too broken, and… Read More My mom genes gave me camel toe.
Women who can’t find a job to support and care for their children let alone another one. Women who have been told that their baby in utero has no heartbeat. Survivors of rape. Shall I continue? Are you uncomfortable yet? How about me? A mother of two who has had two abortions. Two. Not because… Read More Not every sperm is sacred.
