Sometimes our wildest dreams are not for ourselves, but for those we love. Courtney Martin pens a powerful message of hope for her daughters' future, and for the future of women in the world.
Behold! A sneak preview of Creating Our Own Lives, an exciting, new addition to our portfolio of podcasts! Plus, our executive editor selects some of the most intriguing reads on female sex positivity, evolving definitions of motherhood, democracy's doctors, and the cultural treasures binding us together.
When grief or hardship strike, they are best borne out in solidarity. Trent Gilliss serves up readings on our collective sorrow and celebration in the passing of our heroes, and taking a new perspective on the grit of beauty, nature, and family.
Entering the home stretch of her pregnancy, Courtney Martin takes a closer look at the bizarre phenomenon from which we are all brought forth into the world.
Even with years of experience, the parenting journey is one of constant learning — about a budding life, and about oneself. Courtney Martin gives thanks for the grit and grace of new motherhood.
The daughter of refugees pens an open letter to her mother. She reflects on the inheritance of suffering, offering this ode to the resilience of the human spirit and gratitude for the opportunity to flourish.
How do we navigate the fluid dynamics of sex, gender, and identity in our children when we are drawn to the comfort of binaries? Pregnant with her second child, our columnist wonders out loud about her own inclinations and attachments while raising children.
Paul Kalanithi's latest book spurs a pregnant mother to recognize the myth of meaning-making. Our columnist on reckoning with ambiguous endings, and the spectrum of imperfection on which we must all live and thrive.
What has your grandest adventure been? Between adventure and safety lies a world of possibility. Courtney Martin's case for gutsy endeavors, big and small.
A mother's poetic reflection on simultaneously striving to comfort and teach her children, and learn from her own mother, about the growth that can come from struggle.
A young mother of twins returns to the comfort of the kitchen and cooking rice as she remembers learning from her own mother as a child, and revels in the unique tension between her desire for order and the joyful chaos that her children bring.
2016 is around the corner. What’s the question you’re putting to bed and what’s the one that’s just being born within you at this transitional time of year?
Being a mother is an act of transformation and discovery. Courtney Martin examines the gifts of obliteration of motherhood, and the maternal love that rushes in as responsibility beckons.
It's easy to mentally sanitize and romanticize the creative process, but the real work is done in the clutter and the mess of daily living. An enconium on imperfection, self-doubt, and the importance of pushing through.
Rather than grieve for the loss of “normalcy,” a mother of a child with refractory seizure disorder chooses to exult in her being exactly the way she is. Weaving in the Four Noble Truths, she marvels at the gifts of intimacy, false notions of power and control, and the hope and humor that follows.
A mother contemplates her own addictive need to fix things with her daughter. Using mindfulness as a tool for recovery she answers compulsive behavior with the opportunity to be present in ever-deepening self-awareness, and the ability to witness emotional weather without engaging or reacting to it.
Becoming a mother can be a startling experience — a belonging to a communion of motherhood and the stark reality that one's identity will never be the same again. For this upcoming Mother's Day, Courtney Martin contemplates the fragility, fierceness, and myopia of motherhood and the ineffable beauty of being a mother.
This past summer, I drove to Chicago withGrace Boggs and Myrtle Thompson of Feedom Freedom Growers for some book-signing events and radio interviews. During the four- to five-hour drive from Detroit, Myrtle and I shared stories about raising our children. Grace didn’t say much.