Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood

Welcome to the April issue of Literary Mama! We’re excited to usher in spring with a fresh and inspiring selection of work from some very talented mother writers.

Uncertainty slips in like long shadows from the trees. I shiver, wonder if I’ve done the right thing, taking these two little girls away from their father, dividing everything: a house, a dining room set, their chances for someday finding love that doesn’t look like half of something.

Little Spells is a hero’s journey, taking readers from the ordinary world of conception and trying for a baby into the special world of infertility and miscarriage before returning victorious and changed to the ordinary world of pregnancy and early motherhood. In this world, motherhood is both the prize and call to action.

I could say ruination, page scarred,
erasure a blight. But over my shoulder,
her future scrawls foxed and dogeared—
scribble of Seuss in the rain, on a train,
Little Prince at the baobabs, Antonia’s sod
house on the red-tipped plain.


We hadn’t been a family of four anyway. He’d learned fast how to disappear.


I felt in between motherhood and fatherhood. Stateless. Nameless.

I start watching the rankings, how my stats fluctuate by the demands of my children and husband.

I believe a writer is someone who can't not write.


Poetry can be a breath of Mediterranean air when you'd like to forget that there is still snow on the ground.

An abacus arrived at abeyance. / Bobbled-headed. Bitter but bright. / Claustrophobic cacophony. Causing crushing. / Death-defying. Dyspepsia. Dustpan


There are few pleasures better / than knowing who I am, / standing on this rock / while wind and sun surround


uncipherable field she will one day / thumb through, bold ellipses / traced cradle to moment when / flesh becomes word.


Every language drowns itself. A body / may be sunk—but a watch, a shoe—these float / their foam to shore; that's the parenthetical.


It was strange gifting, / running tape around the doors / like heifer's blood, // telling the kerosene to pass over / her children

Carrie Snyder shares how training for a triathlon led to her most recent novel.

A long meditation by Jennifer K. Sweeney on conception and its attendant rigors as complicated by infertility, miscarriage, and the simple baggage of living.


A flash fiction collection by Desiree Cooper centered on the variegated terrain of marriage, motherhood, and professional life.


Mira Ptacin's memoir is about maternity and its various forms—pregnancy, adoption, mourning, egg donation. As the author herself bills the book, it is about "the uterus and the American dream."