POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION DURING A PANDEMIC
The house is living and breathing
windows lifting curtains let old air out.
An air between seasons.
Her body is living and breathing
open organs stretching in the pain of new mother love.
A hurt between the moments of joy...Click the photo to read more.
HOW MY 'FUR BABY' BECAME A POSTPARTUM SUPPORT
GLOBE AND MAIL first person
Our “first born” is a dog. A Boston terrier named Sergeant Pepper. He was the runt of the litter with floppy ears and an expression of cute longing. Angelic, tender and sensitive, he grew anxious and broke out of his crate to eat the walls when we weren’t home. Pepper eventually matured and became watchful, intelligent even. We coddled him and doted on his every need...click photo to keep reading.
WHEN CAN I TELL THE WORLD HOW LONELY I AM?
Exploring real-life motherhood, from every angle, at every stage.
Another month passed unsuccessfully and the amaryllis bent and withered. It’s been four years in a row that he bought me one before Christmas. It flourished like a white winter lily, but with more delicate folds and creases, that then reminded me of my vulva, somehow aging before my eyes, but still beautiful. Before my days with him, I didn’t even know what an amaryllis was. Now a tradition that felt like a peace offering. Another thing that I couldn’t keep alive and would throw away...Click photo to keep reading.