Brianne M. Kohl
I tell my friend, Erica, that I’ve decided to get back into shape. I’m sick of looking at magazines of celebrities claiming they’ve regained their bodies just six weeks post-baby. As if their bodies had gone somewhere foreign, slipped away into the ether for a time, but now they’ve returned, better than ever.
Just seeing the baby’s head wobble made her want to cry, especially since she discovered the warm circle that marked the entry to his brain. But she knew how vulnerable he was, no one had to tell her, and she wondered how any baby made it through the day.
Ama Ata Aidoo
The three together a composition so incredibly wholesome, I found myself wondering if they were all born by me, and if so, how had I managed such a feat. In early middle age, obviously settled in their lives as professional women, all suitably and comfortably married. With children. Smug.
Rae looks down at her bulbous belly. She is nothing if not a record of time. For 34 weeks her body has been counting–adding hours as the baby has added eyes and ears, skin and limbs.
Windy Lynn Harris
My husband shook his head. What the manager didn’t know was that Ron craved the feeling of catching someone in a lie more than any other high in the world. More than the thrill of a roller coaster when it dropped three stories. More than a lottery win. More than hotel sex. Ron’s right eye twitched with excitement.
We were warned about this by the director of the adoption agency: Eventually your daughter will have questions about her “bio-mom.” Do not vilify this individual. Explain, instead, how China’s one-child policy—with its preference for male heirs—forced a fearful woman to abandon a child she loved.
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