Origins: A Pregnancy Book Review

I’m a reader. Recent books on my nightstand have included The Hunger Games, Freedom, and People of the Book--great stories all, steeped in plot twists and imagination and unforgettable characters, and each of them fiction. For whatever reason, this has usually been the type of reading I’m pulled to. Something, perhaps, about being swept up into other lives or places or events that I might not otherwise experience. But lately, these kinds of books have taken the back seat to nonfiction texts, and it’s pretty obvious why....more

Good Crazy: Loving The Emotional Rollercoaster of Early Pregnancy

I have a child growing inside of me. As a woman, and before that a girl who took all the required sex ed classes and watched those slightly horrifying birth videos and engaged in the typical MASH style daydreaming of how many kids I would someday have in my very own mansion-apartment-shack-or-house, this fact should not come as such a surprise. But it does. I look at my abdomen, just now starting to resemble something a bit more significant than this afternoon’s lunch, and I think, My God. I think, Week 13, fingerprints. I think, You are already who you will always be. Isn’t that crazy?...more
I know what you mean, Jenna. I just had my second prenatal appointment, and hearing that ...more

Pregnancy and Food Allergies

 Outside of her living and growing baby, there is probably very little a pregnant woman thinks about more than food. And I’m not just talking cravings....more

Dear Military Service Member,

I have a deep need to do two things: call you by a name (Sam, Margo, Mario, Tianyi) and picture you in a specific place (West Texas, North Carolina, Afghanistan). But I'm able to do neither. You are someone I don't know, someone in some where I have probably never been. But I feel the reality of your life just as sure as I feel these keys under my fingers, and it's a bit miraculous to understand that what I'm about to say will reach you, whatever letters it takes to make up your name....more

Father's Day: For My Dad

You were never much of a hunter. Pheasants, yes. Squirrels and chipmunks, I suppose, when you were younger. But you never came home from a weekend away with a buck in the bed of your truck, because you never had much interest in deer opener and you owned a sedan. I imagine some people from other places can hardly conceive of a Midwestern man without a shotgun over his mantle, a closet full of blaze-orange jackets, a copy of Field and Stream next to the john. And yet when I think of you, I do see an outdoorsman. I see you paying attention to landscapes, to the clouds. I see you teaching me to love the world....more

And thank YOU for commenting, Sigridmaria. Be well!more

My (Almost-Tragic) Hail Story

This is a scene from last Monday. Hubs and I are giddy. It is 88', and humid, the kind of humid you complain about in June, July, and August, but in May, it is all good, baby, in fact it is down right sublime. "Give me more of this stuff!" I yell out at the edge of the deck--I am perched there, reveling in the sensation of sweat--and the words fly back at me atop hot, fat wind. See, along with the humidity, the 7:00 night is cooking up a whole mix of tight, angry air....more

Book Review: Becoming Flame (Mother's Day gift!)

Mother's Day became an American national holiday in 1914, but most would agree that mothers deserved praise and celebration long before that....more

Thank you, Emily!

Also see my excerpts in daily blogs on Seven Days of Wisdom for Mothers ...more

Book Review: Peace Like a River

Such timing, this book entering my life, the landscape shifting and changing around me, just so. Come two more weeks into April, and I could not have abided a story with blizzards and below zero temperatures. Come one week earlier, and I would not have savored strong rivers and spring time like I do this day. ...more

For Mothers Who Have Daughters Who Are Growing Up Too Fast

Memory 1: The view from my child's seat on the back of your bike as you pedaled us around Lake Ripley. It was dusk in mid-summer. Children were emerging from the lake reluctantly, water dripping from their hands and chins, sand coating their feet. We stopped to watch them. You turned back to recheck my buckles, to feed me small carrots, to swipe my hair behind my ears. "You doing okay?" I was. I remember the pink of the light....more

Three Deaths: On Letting Go

Yesterday morning I went for a walk, and there was ice, and I slipped--not wildly--yet enough so that my arms flailed, and I grabbed a nearby branch, and hoped for balance. But it wasn't a branch, really. More of a twig. And it snapped--a clean smooth break, like a bone, like a finger bone, like something fragile....more