We play the hand we’re dealt.


I’m 18 and you are 19. We are in our sparsely furnished apartment and we have run out of money for the week. I’m enormous with a child who doesn’t appear to sleep in the womb and has taken a liking to my ribs. You are wiry and fidgety with wild hair and the wild eyes of someone trying to figure out how to be still with someone you love when you don’t know how to be still at all. We are a sight to behold. Continue reading

Some Mamas Have to Worry.



One chilly evening last fall, we were visiting my grandmother. She has a church directly across from her home. Baylor had some sort of app on his phone, sort of like geocaching meets World of Warcraft type of thing. He jumped up from the couch and told me that there was something to find over at the church- could he go? I looked outside. It was dusk. It was drizzling. I looked at Baylor, in his jeans and black hoodie; such a stark contrast from his nearly glowing white skin. I told him he could go. He ran outside, threw his hood over his head, and wandered around the closed church.

I wasn’t worried.

But I know some mamas have to worry. Continue reading