Magazine

It was November 2022, the radiator in our drafty Victorian flat was clanking like a dying tractor, and I was holding two identical, screaming infants who felt exactly like hot water bottles wrapped in synthetic fleece. My wife was furiously...

Dear Marcus of exactly six months ago: I can see you right now. You're standing over the changing table at 3:17 AM in our freezing Portland apartment, sweating profusely while holding a squirming, screaming five-month-old, trying to figure out how...

It was, like, 3 AM on a Tuesday in 2017 and I was sitting on my living room rug wearing my husband’s stained gray college sweatpants, completely tangled in mint green yarn. I was seven months pregnant with Maya and...

It was 2:14 AM on a Tuesday, and my husband was out in the driveway in his boxer shorts, aggressively sweeping a flashlight under the seats of our minivan. I was inside, ripping apart the couch cushions and interrogating our...

When Maya was exactly three days old, I sat on my sagging living room couch wearing mesh postpartum underwear and a nursing tank that smelled strongly of sour milk, holding a screaming, red-faced potato of a newborn while receiving completely...