Creative Nonfiction

It is rather unusual for me to tear off on roaring, spontaneous tangents. In fact, I am fairly level-headed about most things, although I am known, by those who know…

“She has your eyes,” says the woman at the toddler park. It’s true. My daughter Mira has my blue eyes and the dimple from my chin. When it’s just Mira…

I’m all for natural childbirth. I think it’s great when women give birth under the influence of measured breathing, hot baths, and long walks, and I’m firmly against scheduled c-sections.…

Twenty-five years ago, before the ink dried on Roe vs. Wade, my father set out to protest. Every Sunday, his only day off, he picketed the local hospital where the…

“You wanna hear the latest?” It’s Diana, my best friend of forty years on the phone, and I know what’s coming: a tale of a recent confrontation with her daughter…

A good friend of mine is going through a tough time at the moment. She is eight months pregnant with her second baby and hasn’t felt that great since the…

I think about being pregnant, enveloped in hormones and inordinate roundness, with swollen ankles and varicose veins. I am too old to have a child. In the mirror today, my…