Rebecca Smyth
I’m lying flat on my back in a hospital examination room, acid reflux burning in my throat. A polite male doctor scans my protruding belly as I stare at the graying tiles on the ceiling while praying hard and fast, “Please be okay. Please be okay.” It was a routine appointment until my 34-week bump…
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A Blessing for the September Mother: Who doesn’t make enough memories Or lives for the bucket list Who misses the first day of school Or performs acrobatics to get it off work Who holds milestones and grief in the same hand Or relishes in routine Who feels nauseous with anxiety Or notices she can breathe again Who despises making packed…
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