I remember staring at a photo of myself from a year prior. I was at a dive bar, laughing, wearing a stained band t-shirt, drinking a cheap beer. I looked… light. Unburdened. I felt a pang of grief so sharp it shocked me. I wasn't sad for the baby. I was sad for her . The woman who could sleep in until noon. The woman who didn't know what “cluster feeding” meant.
"We are obsessed with the 'after' photo. The happy ending. But the reality of motherhood is that it is a long, gritty middle. I want to write about the middle. I want to write the parts that make people nod their heads and say, 'Me too. I thought I was the only one.'" mutha magazine author z
What sets [Author Z] apart from other contributors is their refusal to offer a neat resolution. In a recent interview with Mutha , they noted: I remember staring at a photo of myself from a year prior