“I hated when attention was brought to my adoptee status. I was American, and that was all I wanted to be.”
“When your husband is dying and your child is on the cusp of forming actual memories, nothing in the world makes sense.”
“In the emergency room, my instincts exploded from protective to full-blown primal. And it felt like love.”
An unexpected pregnancy, a birth, and a family reunion.
Maniacal clowns and pale men with eyes in their palms are the worst my son has to fear in life. Or so I wish.
My child casually peeled their T-shirt off; I was the one who felt exposed.
I worried that my nephew considered it too late for reconnection.
“In moments like this, natural childbirth seems like magic to me.”
My biological sister walked me through a maze of high-rises, down a sparsely treed street, across a parking lot, through a cluttered garage, and into a shoe-filled entryway where garlic, cabbage, and the sweat-addled pungency of age struck me with uncompromising insistence. After I removed my boots, I followed her down a dim hallway towards a jagged triangle of light, the yellow rays seeping from a small room on the left. Before we arrived, she turned to me and said, “Are you ready?