Magazine

I was exactly thirty-six weeks pregnant with my oldest, sitting dead center on the faux-wood floor of our tiny rental duplex, surrounded by seventy-five pastel blue envelopes. I was absolutely sobbing. My lower back felt like it was splitting in...

I'm standing in aisle 400 of the convention center, seven months pregnant with Maya, sweating through a maternity shirt that was absolutely not designed for indoor arena temperatures, while my husband Dave is holding three different neon tote bags filled...

I was sitting at my cousin's baby shower in Naperville last month, watching her unwrap a tiny, stiff tweed blazer. The tags said zero to three months. It had elbow patches. Everyone cooed, but I just stared at it, calculating...

Dear Sarah from six months ago, You're currently standing in aisle four of the craft store. It’s raining outside, you’re wearing those black leggings with the mystery yogurt stain on the left thigh, and you're staring blindly at a mountain...

I spent my first week at home with my son staring at a spreadsheet I built to track his bowel movements. It was three in the morning, my nursing scrub top was stained with spit-up, and I was holding a...

I was sitting on a donut pillow in my cramped Chicago apartment, bleeding through postpartum mesh underwear, while my mother-in-law unboxed a neon pink fleece blanket the size of a parachute. It had my daughter's name embroidered across it in...