Magazine

It was a Tuesday, roughly 2:15 PM in late October 2017. Maya was exactly fourteen weeks old, and I was wearing a pair of dark grey maternity leggings that I had absolutely no intention of retiring anytime soon. They had...

Row 47 of my "Baby Infrastructure" Google Sheet is where my sanity finally encountered a fatal error. It was 2:14 AM. The ambient temperature in the nursery was exactly 71.4 degrees, I had logged 11 wet diapers for the day,...

There's this deeply embedded cultural myth that to successfully raise a functional human infant, you must provide them with a floor space that looks and sounds exactly like a Las Vegas casino. When Leo was about two months old, I...

I was on my hands and knees in the middle of my living room, frantically trying to scrub curdled breastmilk out of a felt lion’s mane with a single dry baby wipe, while my three-month-old screamed like I was actively...

It was 2:14 PM on a particularly bleak, rain-lashed London Tuesday, and a plastic, primary-coloured toucan was aggressively singing a distorted, tinny version of ‘La Cucaracha’ while swinging precisely three inches above my daughter’s nose. I was sitting on the...

When I was pregnant with my oldest, Tucker, I swear everybody had a loud opinion on where exactly the baby was supposed to exist when I wasn't holding him. My grandmother told me to just throw a handmade quilt on...