By Eunice Brownlee | The thing that amuses me most about motherhood is how much of it centers on celebrating not just milestones, but the first time our kids do something. When our kids are babies, it seems that those firsts are happening on an almost daily basis and it’s hard to keep up.

By Leslie Yeary | from “Mother Runner” - It’s a mystery how my former body — my tight stomach, my thunder thighs — used to run eight miles one afternoon and then four fast laps the next morning. I’d laugh my way through an intramural basketball game with my college roommates and a bunch of dudes as if my invincibility was a way of life. A calling.

By Lucy Beckley | ‘Mama, are you okay?’ my youngest called out, as I slumped over the toilet bowl retching. She appeared cautiously from behind the door. Eyes watery, teetering with tears that threaten to spill over. Not used to seeing me unwell or in such a state, her empathetic antennae went into overdrive, as I crouched and huddled in the downstairs cloakroom.

By Colleen Tirtirian | from “Impossible Dream” - Motherhood is . . . / The bask of an early morning snuggle / a quiet, cooing baby on my breast. / It is tracing tiny little hands and feet / The rise and fall of a perfect chest. / An impossible dream

By Melaina Williams | from “The Ghost in the Light” - There is a ghost of a woman / in my house of few windows and lamps, / tidying the children’s toys, / adding paprika and olive oil to the fish, / kissing my husband at the door, / packing my purse for work.

By Leesha Mony | Before becoming a mother, I always wondered what type of parent I would be. I wondered if all of my best efforts and intentions would pay off. I wondered if I would know what to do or how to handle the difficult moments and seasons. I wondered if, in some way, mothering would be easier than I was expecting and if I would silently think to myself – what are all these people talking about?

By Micah Klassen | from “Dirt” - Dim lights and damp floors / I see dirt in the carpet / Stress coils itself in my muscles / A python poised to squeeze / Low ceilings and dust — / Dust is my nemesis / I peer through the gloom, tired of / Fighting to find missing peace

By Kailyn Rhinehart | Saturdays are a mixed bag; some days we’re chasing feral children and exhausted by 8:15 a.m., and others we’re calmly doing puzzles and eating breakfast. Today was a little of both. I look at the clock above me on the microwave: 9 a.m. I briefly recall when I used to sleep until 9 a.m. Those were the days. “One day we’ll have nice walls . . . .” I mumble almost wistfully from where they can’t hear me.

By Crystal James | from “White Farmhouse” - Our house was built in 1860 / It has narrow doorways with squeaky handles / Furniture never fits through the stairway / And it’s a magnet to dust / But it’s our first home / So we cherish its quirks / We stamped our names on it / And the kids left their prints and marked heights

By Laci Hoyt | I stopped fighting with my kid. I stopped yelling. I stopped demanding. I stopped threatening. I stopped arguing. I stopped correcting. I stopped all of it.
His room is a giant mess – dirty clothes piled in front of dirty sheets. Dirty cups, plates, and empty electrolyte water bottles on every surface.

By Kate Bailey | “I think I grew a lot last night!” you say almost every morning now, stretching your torso so long it almost curves back, your chin up in the air. “I think you’re right!” I reply, and though mostly I say it because it spreads a proud smile across your face, I also know that it’s true.

By Leena Lemos | from “Divine Moon” - Her force was felt in my bones / Months before her essence / Was implanted in my womb / She beckoned me home / To find my inner light / And rediscover my soul

By Jesika Feather | We are four teenagers deep in this household. Even way back, when I was pushing a double stroller with all four of them crammed in, I had trepidation for this time. Finally, I'm peering out from the thick of it. It's a relief, actually. Living the teenpocalypse, versus waiting all those years in suspense. I thought the house might fall down. But so far, everything is intact.

By Deborah Pritchett | This summer, my Texan plains went sixty-seven days without rain. Apparently it’s the second longest streak in Dallas Fort Worth’s history. Rain or shine may not be a big deal for some folks, but rain steadies me. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest completely immersed in it, and whenever I get to smell it, and see tiny rainbow reflections in the puddles on the roads, I feel like I’m home again.

By Maddy Hill | Before we decided to have a child I was a little anti-mothers. This seems like a bad place to be admitting this, but I found it frustrating that they would fall off the face of the earth once they had children. That people you had known for years would transform into something almost unrecognisable, and when you did eventually meet up with them, they would only talk about their child, or manage to turn every conversation topic into a parenting anecdote.

By Mona Ray | Before I became a mama bear, I was working up to three jobs most of the time. Why not? I was young, I had the energy. It took nothing out of me to wake up, get a workout in, be a sushi chef from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., change clothes, serve tables at the K-BBQ restaurant from 5:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m., change again, and serve drinks at the karaoke bar ‘til 3:00 a.m. I feel like I’m holding my breath just recalling that lifestyle.

By Megan Vos | It was before dawn, maybe 6 a.m. The elk were bugling, which I had heard before, but never quite so close, and never all night. It reminded me of when we’ve stayed at our family’s cabins in northern Maine, where the loons call to each other all night long — a reminder that you’re someplace special, someplace different. We were in Rocky Mountain National Park for our final camping trip of the season.

By Adeola Sheehy | It’s the weekend before the new academic year begins and I find myself up late surrounded by forms for the new activities and classes that my children will be beginning in just a few days. My pen hovers over the page, I’m stuck on the second question.

By Melissa Face | “They came by it honestly,” my grandmother used to say in reference to one of us grandchildren inheriting a trait from a family member. In my case, it was my love of playing practical jokes and making people laugh.

By Chelsy Meyer | from “Welcome Home” - It seems impossible now / That you emerged from my body / This small, creamy baby / A small piece of my soul / Who screamed upon your entry to this world / But stopped once you entered my arms / Like you knew / You were home / And I knew it, too.