Today, I told my husband to lie to me—and I meant it. If you know me, you know my number one pet peeve has always been lying. I hate it. I pride myself on honesty, even when the truth is uncomfortable. So for me to actually ask for a lie? That’s not something I did…

Descended, Not Defined I come from a line of women who were never quite “typical.” My mother. Her mother. Her sister. All likely neurodivergent—undiagnosed, unsupported, and uncontained. Not women you’d call “high-functioning.” They didn’t mask. They didn’t assimilate. They lived on the margins—off systems, disconnected from stability, estranged from each other… and eventually, from me.…

Today, I washed poop off a toddler, underwear, and myself. I am tired. Not “I need a nap” tired—soul tired. I am pull-string doll tired. Repeating the same phrases over and over like I’m the only one who hears them. “We don’t climb the furniture.” “Gentle hands.” “Because I said so—again.” Redirection? Ha. I know…

Intro: As I prepare to welcome my second son into the world, I find myself living in the tension between fear and faith. This is a glimpse into the quiet, anxious prayers and steady declarations that carry me through these final weeks. The possibility of loss and tragedy as I await the birth of my…

Swamp Witch Energy I’ve been home with my son for days dealing with the most disgusting virus. Even once he started feeling better, the sensory stuff lingered—chewing and spitting out food, then wiping it on me. Our “sweet” picnic moment? Yeah, that included me getting smeared with regurgitated sandwich. I redirected him to the towel…

I’ve never been rich. Only in short, fleeting moments have I known what it’s like to have plenty. But never—until now— did I understand the true richness of a full night’s sleep. In my youth, I believed sleepless nights meant passion, purpose, or well-aligned priorities. Now, as a parent, those same hours are spent rocking,…

When motherhood gets messy, love still shows up—even if it’s not in the ways you imagined. Last night was one of those nights. The kind where sleep feels like a stranger, and exhaustion settles deep in your bones. Where my chosen tones and words—sharp and frayed—leave behind regret. Where my actions aren’t the ones I…

My body aches. My mind won’t stop. Everything I feel feels too loud, too much, too fast. I snap. I shut down. I come back in guilt. I want to hold my son and also run from the weight of being needed. Motherhood feels natural to me— but it’s still heavy. And it’s heavier when…

Written by Jane Elliott I pumped for three months—hard core. Power pumping. Alarms buzzing. Middle-of-the-night sessions while the rest of the world slept and my baby dreamed beside me. I cried, wanting to give him what had been sold to me as “best.” For four months, I tried to latch him regularly. And for the…

“Are You My Mother?” is a classic children’s book where a baby bird searches the world, asking every creature the same question—“Are you my mother?”—until finally, it finds its way back home. But for me, that story didn’t bring comfort. It brought confusion. It wasn’t my favorite book growing up. It unsettled me. It made…