Sendimentality: Celebrating Life’s Layers
Since my daughter Adelaide’s birth three weeks ago, I have never been more aware of the sediment of years composing my life. I felt the tectonic shifting of these layers as I slipped a picture of our newborn over the
A Harvest Bounty of Her Own
Running parallel to our lane are six rows of tiny saplings my husband just planted. Their naked branches are easily bent by the wind sweeping across our valley, making it hard to imagine the harvest bounty they will one day
My Husband’s Letter to Our Daughter
Eight years ago -- although I would not admit it until much later -- I fell in love with my quiet husband through his written words. After reading this letter he wrote to our daughter, a part of me fell in
Never Too Late To Turn
I do not need a psychology degree to pinpoint the reason for my shift from bohemian to bookworm. My sophomore year in college, my entire world whipped off into a whole new orbit--disease, death, and substance abuse flinging the people
Desperate times call for…humiliating measures
On Valentine’s Day a routine ultrasound revealed that our daughter, at thirty-nine weeks gestation, had flipped from the standard vertex position into the footling breech. Instead of celebrating our love with flowers and candlelight, my husband and my every thought
Reaching Beyond Ourselves
On October 28th, 1953, in Jonesboro, Arkansas, David Ring was born dead. Thinking the infant had no chance of recovery, the doctor set him on a table in a corner of the hospital room and for eighteen minutes David’s blue
A Prison Cell Called Home
Seventeen days until my daughter’s estimated arrival, yet she has no idea the transformation about to take place. As her body daily expands with the insulating fat that will sustain her, I can feel every ripple of her limbs in
“Can You Hear Me Now?”
Unaccustomed to a vehicle that doesn’t rattle apart at 65 miles per hour and with the addition of the car’s butter leather interior and electric butt warmers, I felt like a queen as my new Subaru glided onto the interstate behind my
Shower The People You Love With Love
This weekend, at my baby shower, I experienced how it must feel to eavesdrop on my own memorial service.While I sat in a rocking chair surrounded by a heap of exquisitely wrapped pink and green gifts, my mother passed around a
Marriage Does Not Mean Seeing Eye To Eye
My husband and I often do not see eye to eye, and that is not just because of our twelve inch height difference. I have a weakness for wrapping babies like little burritos until their scrunched, reddened faces are the