The Monthly Theme Essays are a collection of essays written each month on a predetermined theme. These essays are always published during the last week of the month. To submit a Monthly Theme Essay check out our upcoming themes.
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The two-seater Toyota truck rushed through the darkness of early morning in Fayetteville, N.C. We were on our way to the hospital on Fort Bragg’s Army base. My pain made sitting up monumental, whimpering inevitable. I was aware of every centimeter of my body and yet, somehow, also entirely outside of myself. God, it hurt.
Read More(Sometimes I forget).
I have a body. I remind myself stretching, the pops releasing my back before climbing into bed. I roll my wrists, tiny muscles spent from crocheting. We’re working on our relationship, my body and me. I’m working to listen better; my body, in turn, agrees to shout less. I’m trying to forgive the things it will not do, the question mark of grief that whispers, “I can’t.”
Read MoreMy heart pounded conspicuously in my chest as my husband and I approached the clinic. I was terrified. What if there were protesters outside? What if they talked to me? What if they asked me why I was there?
Read MoreMay 18, 1980 – Mt. St Helens volcano in Washington State exploded with the force of 500 nuclear Hiroshima bombs, taking lives, destroying homes, spreading 540 million tons of ash over 22,000 square miles, and flattening trees for 220 square miles. It was the worst avalanche in U.S. history. Within two weeks ash had drifted around the globe.
Read MoreA happy face on a stick transforms me. My breasts become tender, fatigue overwhelms. It becomes part of my being. Growth sprouts into a grain of rice, a blueberry, and a raspberry with duck feet. By spring, a plum dangling from a tree branch—fingernails, toes, bone.
Read MoreI’d only told the baby daddy when I was sure. “So, you’re not getting rid of it then?” He’d said.
Keep mum until you've passed the first trimester. This is the gospel according to the matriarchy, and I’d followed it religiously. The latent fear is that miscarriage pursues you at your back like a winged chariot.
Read MoreI’m a mother. And yet, I’m not.
My dream, years in the making, has and yet hasn’t come true. And even if I could ignore this and live as if my life is the way I want it to be, there are daily reminders everywhere I go that women the world over keep getting my dream for themselves while I am still left grasping for it.
Read MoreIt was a Sunday in September and I was nursing one of the worst hangovers I’d had since college. Hours of restless sleep, lying completely still on my back in the dark, choking down stale crackers only to lose them again a few moments later; this became the day’s very unwelcome routine.
Read MoreIt was a good thing.
No, in fact, it was the best thing that could’ve happened.
I know that.
I was in an abusive relationship—eighteen years old—and the stick said positive.
Read MoreDear Past Me,
The one sitting by an incubator in the NICU. I see you- I am you. Today was hard. A doctor with a brash attitude blindsided you in a room full of people. She told you to pull the plug- to abandon hope because even if your sick child does manage to pull through- the burden will be too great. Her words- not yours, not mine.
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