Magazine

We were standing in the narrow hallway of our second-floor London flat, holding two incredibly heavy car seats containing two very small, very loud humans. It was raining, obviously. The boot of the Uber had just been emptied of a...

I was sitting on the floor of our half-painted nursery in the dead of a Texas July, sweating through my maternity leggings, when I aggressively hurled a 1,000-page naming dictionary across the room at my husband. It missed him, thankfully,...

I was sitting cross-legged on the cold, unforgiving hexagonal tiles of our rental apartment’s bathroom at 3 AM, wearing my husband’s faded college sweatpants and holding a red plastic cup that contained a mixture of my own urine and Arm...

I found Sarah sitting on the cold kitchen tiles at 3:14 AM, illuminated entirely by the blue glare of her phone screen and eating dry Cheerios straight from the cardboard box. She looked up at me, eyes hollow with exhaustion,...