Our extra son was for experiments

Imagine being lost in the open ocean, frantically bailing water out of a sinking raft which refills exactly as fast you empty it. You will never be found, never be saved. Sooner or later you’ll need to rest and cease your constant vigilance, but you’re still fighting the waves for as long as you can. However hopeless, the terror of that dark water is more real than everything else in your dying world. That’s what being a mother was like to me. (more…)

I was conscious while they opened me

If I told you it was dark here, you wouldn’t understand. Darkness means something different to you than it does to me. A flip of a switch or push of a button and the world will materialize around you. The blackest night contains glimmering reflections or shades of varying depth which give context to your despair. (more…)

My son usually says goodnight, but this time he said goodbye.

My four year old son and I have a night-time ritual. Step one: turn off his cartoons and pray he won’t wail loud enough for the neighbors to think I’m torturing him. Step two: sedate the wild beasty with the “Goodnight Moon” story. He’ll be crawling all over the bed at the beginning, but I just keep reading slower and softer while I wait for him to wind down. Then with barely a whisper, I’ll say: (more…)