Guest Post by Marissa Henley Has this ever happened to you? Your phone buzzes, and you look down to see a call from a friend who’s expecting biopsy results. The minute you hear her voice, you know: it’s cancer. As you process your shock, sadness, and fear, you wonder how
After my first miscarriage, I scoured the internet to find miscarriage stories. I needed to know my pain was valid, my grief was warranted, and that I wasn’t alone. I often say that I devoured stories like medication in those early days—somehow they helped heal me as I absorbed them
The fact that you’re here means you’ve probably googled for clues on how to help your friend after a heartbreaking miscarriage or other form of pregnancy loss such as stillbirth, ectopic pregnancy, etc. I’m sorry. There’s no other way to say it other than: this is hard. Thank you for putting
Strength and dignity—she is tender, she is fierce One woman every minute dies in childbirth*. I am not her. You’re not either. But every “her” has a name. She’s built with strength and dignity. She’s woven together by the Creative One—all beauty and resiliency, determination and vulnerability. She is tender;
(Originally published on May 10, 2014) To be entirely honest, I miss the “innocence” of Mother’s Day that I used to know. I’m all too aware that not all women fit neatly into the “Mother Box”, and that for some, Mother’s Day is incredibly hard – a time of mourning even.
When I saw with my own eyes a woman giving birth in the mud in Papua New Guinea it changed me. I knew the statistics—that one woman dies in childbirth every moment—but I didn’t know their names. Knowing her name, Bokoro, altered everything for me. Related: Read Bokoro’s story (photos taken
She was at my door trying to sell me one of those dinner box services. Believe me, I would sign up if we could afford such things. Brilliant concept. With a baby on my hip and a polite “no thank you” on my lips, she turned the conversation to
Dear Scarlett, It’s been four years since I was wheeled down the hallway under obnoxious fluorescent lighting by the insensitive surgeon and the nurse with kind eyes. I was thankful to be put under for the procedure, like a child pinching her nose to take a dreaded bite of peas.
Is your heart stirred to write? Want to develop your craft? You don't have to do it alone! Here are some tips, resources, and inspiration for pursuing the writing life.
