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A few months shy of my 37th birthday, I was single and experiencing what felt like Fertility DEFCON-1, so I started the process of having a kid on my own.


Insemination is expensive and time consuming. It involves meds, blood work, ultrasounds, and home ovulation predictor kits. You go to a clinic several times a week, always between the hours of 7:3o and 8:30 a.m. These clinics should be warmly lit and play R&B slow jams, but they are not and do not.

When you check in, they give you a buzzer like they do at Applebee’s that flashes and vibrates when your table is ready. People look bored and a little unhappy, like they do in most doctors’ waiting rooms. No one looks as miserable as the men do.

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Everything builds up to the two-day period in the 28-day menstrual cycle in which pregnancy is possible. Once you’re inseminated, you wait two weeks to find out if you’re pregnant.

I thought I was pregnant for the entire two weeks.

I wasn’t.

After my third insemination, I found myself dispirited. There was a 15 percent chance of it working each time. Technically, that meant that I could do it a thousand times without it ever working.

But I was pregnant. On my first Mother’s Day as a mother-to-be, my breasts were sore and I was ecstatic. I went to Cape Cod by myself, staying in my grandmother’s cottage on the beach. I read books and felt my symptoms and took walks. I thought about the year to come: I’d need to get started on the “baby’s room,” to be located in the hallway of my apartment. I’d need a larger winter coat.

My fetus, I learned from a site that sent me weekly updates, had sprouted a spinal cord and backbone. Its heart and circulatory systems were forming. Its nose, mouth, and ears were starting to take shape. Its intestines were developing. It was the size of a lentil.

On the day my fetus was six weeks old I looked for six beautiful stones on the beach and put them in the kitchen windowsill.

I returned to New York for my first ultrasound with my mother in tow. 

My doctor looked at the screen and she looked and she looked and she didn’t say anything for a minute or so until she said that she could see a fetal sack but didn’t hear a heartbeat.

Oh, keep looking, I thought.

But it wasn’t there. She said that it was possible that it was too early to detect the heartbeat, that I should come back in a week.   

The news obliterated me and it obliterated my mother. 

We decided to be hopeful, though. On the pregnancy websites we read dozens of testimonials from women whose doctors couldn’t hear a heartbeat at six weeks, but did at seven weeks.

The next night I covered a science museum gala for the Wall Street Journal where I frequently worked. I felt extremely hormonal and my breasts were still swollen and sore, which reassured me that my baby’s heartbeat would soon be heard.

The evening was a great distraction and that week I went about the business of my life. I felt very much pregnant.

But I wasn’t. The second ultrasound confirmed that my baby didn’t have a heartbeat. 

I unsubscribed from the fetus update emails. One by one, I told all of the people I’d told I was pregnant that I wasn’t pregnant anymore.

There are only three times in my life that I’ve seen my mother truly bereft: when her mother died, when her brother died, and when she had a miscarriage.

I was five at the time. We’d all been so excited that she was pregnant. I had told all of my friends from school that I was going to be a big sister. And then one day, my father took my brother and me to McDonalds and explained that our mother wasn’t pregnant anymore. When I got home, I peeked in on her. She was asleep and I could feel the sadness in her bedroom.

I went in for a D&C – a process that removes the fetal tissue from the mother’s body – but there was some part of that pregnancy that no miscarriage and no D&C and no amount of time could take away. I had known what it was to carry a child. I had been a mother.

The doctors were very kind. My anesthesiologist was a theater lover and we exchanged recommendations while they strapped me onto the operating table.

“Do you have any questions?” the doctor asked.

“No,” I said. But I did have a question. “Actually, could you check and be sure that my baby doesn’t have a heartbeat?”

It was really – still – hard to believe that I wasn’t pregnant. I could feel the empathetic response at my request. He nodded. He checked. There was a fetal sack. There was no heartbeat.

Once you’ve had a miscarriage you have to wait until you get your period before you can start trying to get pregnant again, and you don’t know how long that will take.

My most spiritually-minded friend, Dorie, said that these circumstances offered me the opportunity to improve on my “waiting and not knowing” skills. “Motherhood is often about waiting without knowing,” she said.

In the bigger picture, she insisted, I wasn’t off track. “You don’t know what’s coming next, but you don’t need to.” I wrote that on a Post-it note and stuck it to the wall where I worked every day.

I upped my self-care routine: yoga, meditation, time with friends. Once while meditating, images came into my head of being at my grandmother’s cottage and taking a much sadder version of myself for a swim in the pond at dusk. I then brushed her tangled hair while she dried off on the sand, and brought her back to the deck on the ocean. I gave sad me a clean pair of jeans and a tee-shirt to change into, then poured us a glass of wine.

I went back to Cape Cod soon after that vision. It was early June, still the off-season, so the beaches were empty, the restaurants had no lines, and the library was stocked with well-reviewed, recently-published books. 

It was a difficult week. My mind was unsteady, and fell into bleak stretches. But my family was there, and their company helped quite a bit. By the time I was set to leave, I felt better than I had in quite some time.

On my last night there I took myself to the pond at dusk. I swam. And then I brushed my hair. I went back to the house and put on a clean pair of jeans and a tee-shirt and had a glass of wine on the deck. It felt like a punctuation mark. Maybe I was done grieving, I thought.

But I wasn’t done grieving. Shortly after my return to New York, I was on the my way to the theater on a very crowded subway. I suddenly started sobbing uncontrollably. I hid my face in my arms, with a person sitting inches to my left, a person inches perpendicular to me, people standing inches in front of me.

The woman sitting to my left said, “What are you upset about?”

I couldn’t speak.

She said, “Is it a man? They’re not worth it.” And she kept saying, “They’re not worth it,” so I finally said, “It’s not about a man.”  

“Is it your mother?” she asked.

“I lost a pregnancy,” I said, and then sobbed some more.

“What?” she replied. She couldn’t make out what I’d said.

“I lost a pregnancy.”

She still didn’t get it. She didn’t hear very well.

“I had a miscarriage,” I said, clearly elucidating and projecting for everyone at our end of the car. 

“Oh,” she said, before launching into a stream of consciousness monologue about loss, God, motherhood, and her cats.

There was nowhere for me to go. From time to time she interrupted her train of thought to ask questions that just turned the faucet up:

“Was it a boy or a girl?”

“Did you have names picked out?”

“How did they get rid of the fetus?”

“Does your husband take good care of you?”

“Do you believe that God knows what he’s doing and that God has a plan for you?”

That last question was essentially what my spiritually-minded friend had asked me: do you have faith? I wasn’t sure anymore. I was mourning a miscarriage and having hormone withdrawal, plus I was anxious about being single. Together it coalesced into a crisis of faith, not that the universe was Godless, not that the universe was without a plan for me, but that the plan might be for me to be single. That the plan for me did not include motherhood.

The woman on the train told me that she was 71, never married, childless, with four cats. God’s plan for me could be something like that.

We got to the end of the line, and got out of the train. I thanked her for comforting me, and I gave her a hug.

“God bless you,” she said. “Your baby died only inches away from your heart, which is the best place for it to die.”

A few days later my grandmother’s friend Dian paid me a visit and I told her what was going on in my life: That I might be having a crisis of faith. That I had begun the process of having a child on my own, but miscarried and was waiting for the return of my menstrual cycle. That I was single and hoping to meet a man. That I knew my editor was leaving at some point, but I didn’t know when, and I didn’t know what the transition would be like.

“It’s a caesura,” she said.

I didn’t know what that meant.

“Latin,” she said. “For the pause in a poem.”

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When it comes to holiday gifts, we know what you really want, mama. A full night's sleep. Privacy in the bathroom. The opportunity to eat your dinner while it's still hot. Time to wash—and dry!—your hair. A complete wardrobe refresh.


While we can't help with everything on your list (we're still trying to figure out how to get some extra zzz's ourselves), here are 14 gift ideas that'll make you look, if not feel, like a whole new woman. Even when you're sleep deprived.

Gap Cable-Knit Turtleneck Sweater

When winter hits, one of our go-to outfits will be this tunic-length sweater and a pair of leggings. Warm and everyday-friendly, we can get behind that.

$69.95

Gap Cigarette Jeans

These high-waisted straight-leg jeans have secret smoothing panels to hide any lumps and bumps (because really, we've all got 'em).

$79.95

Tiny Tags Gold Skinny Bar Necklace

Whether engraved with a child's name or date of birth, this personalized necklace will become your go-to piece of everyday jewelry.

$135.00

Gap Brushed Pointelle Crew

This wear-with-anything soft pink sweater with delicate eyelet details can be dressed up for work or dressed down for weekend time with the family. Versatility for the win!

$79.95

Gap Flannel Pajama Set

For mamas who sleep warm, this PJ set offers the best of both worlds: cozy flannel and comfy shorts. Plus, it comes with a coordinating eye mask for a blissed-out slumber.

$69.95

Spafinder Gift Card

You can't give the gift of relaxation, per say, but you can give a gift certificate for a massage or spa service, and that's close enough!

$50.00

Gap Stripe Long Sleeve Crewneck

This featherweight long-sleeve tee is the perfect layering piece under hoodies, cardigans, and blazers.

$29.95

Gap Chenille Smartphone Gloves

Gone are the days of removing toasty gloves before accessing our touchscreen devices—thank goodness!

$9.95

Ember Temperature Control Smart Mug

Make multiple trips to the microwave a thing of the past with a app-controlled smart mug that'll keep your coffee or tea at the exact temperature you prefer for up to an hour.

$79.95

Gap Flannel Shirt

Our new favorite flannel boasts an easy-to-wear drapey fit and a flattering curved shirttail hem.

$59.95

Gap Sherpa-Lined Denim Jacket

Stay warm while looking cool in this iconic jean jacket, featuring teddy bear-soft fleece lining and a trendy oversized fit.

$98.00

Gap Crazy Stripe Scarf

Practical and stylish, this cozy scarf adds a pop of color—well, colors—to any winter ensemble.

$39.95

Nixplay Seed Frame

This digital picture frame is perfect for mamas who stay up late scrolling through their phone's photo album to glimpse their kiddos being adorable. By sending them to this smart frame to view throughout the day, you can get a few extra minutes of sleep at night!

$165.00

Gap Crewneck Sweater

Busy mamas will appreciate that this supersoft, super versatile Merino wool sweater is machine washable.

$59.95

This article was sponsored by GAP. Thank you for supporting the brands that support Motherly and Mamas.

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Can you believe it's already time to start decorating for the holidays? And this year, Target is making it easier than ever to create inviting holiday spaces that are still neat, organized and clutter-free. Whether your style is whimsical, traditional or rustic, there are plenty of neutral creams, frosty whites and touches of evergreen that will take you through the holidays and well into the new year with style.

This holiday also marks the 3-year anniversary of the launch of Joanna Gaines' Hearth & Hand with Magnolia line. The collection features nearly 300 new pieces from gifting and décor to entertaining. Oh, and this season they have faux Christmas trees!

Ready to create your own modern winter wonderland at home? Grab our favorite minimalist piece:

Joy wire Christmas wreath

Joy wire Christmas wreath

The word "Joy" isn't a holiday classic for nothing—it's sure to bring lots of smiles and laughs to any home. And when it's atop the garland in this festive wreath, it's an instant pick-me-up. Plus, for an extra twist: This comes pre-strung with white LED bulbs for a little light to brighten dark spaces.

$45

Mini cable-knit stocking

Mini cable-knit stocking

This stocking brings simplistic holiday cheer to just about any living space. This mini size is perfect for little ones or if you just want stockings that don't take up too much space.

$4

Faux white pine garland

Faux white pine garland

Bring the outdoors indoors with a garland that can be framed around your door. Or add holiday spirit to your table runner with a garland centerpiece. We love how realistic this one looks for such an affordable price.

$24.99

Whitewash advent calendar

Whitewash advent calendar

Let's be honest, advent calendars are nice, but some have gone a bit overboard in how complicated they are. But not this one. The cutout shape of a tree features rows of numbers, while a roaming wreath moves the countdown along. Simple, yet chic.

$20

Round tree skirt

Round tree skirt

No tree is complete without a beautiful tree skirt. This striped one is a must-have for a farmhouse-inspired atmosphere. Even better if you want a splash of rustic charm that matches your other holiday décor.

$39.99

Mini marquee star wall sign

Mini marquee star wall sign

Brighten up your living room with this attention-grabbing statement piece. Hang the star sign on your entryway wall to help welcome guests, or place it on your mantel, shelf or end table alongside other accents to add touches of holiday cheer in a minimalist way.

$8

Ceramic house decorative figurine

Ceramic house decorative figurine

This tiny house with windows, door and a chimney lends realistic, whimsical appeal, but the solid ceramic design allows it to be used from season to season. Place a small light inside to light up your mantle when standard candles won't suffice.

$8

Wood garland

Wood garland

Sometimes less is more! Upgrade your staircase or tree with this simplistic wooded garland. Pair with fresh cedar and grapevine twigs to create a striking focal point on your home.

$12.99

Joy wall decor

Joy wall decor

Create holiday cheer in a small way by adding holiday wall art that sparks a bit of joy.

For a refined look, the decor offers a hardwood frame and the sawtooth back allows for easy display on tiny spaces that need a touch of holiday spirit.

$9.99

Stocking holder

Stocking holder

Minimalists will rejoice for this multi-tasking stocking holder—acting as both festive signage and a holder for multiple stockings. It's simple, charming and will look great on your mantle for years to come.

$29.99
Holiday Shopping Guides

Madison Vining, mama of six, recently posted an honest message that went viral on Instagram. In it she described how we can't really have the full picture of someone's life just by what they post on social media. It's little fragments of their life, which probably leave out the really good moments when people decide to put the phone down to be present, and also the really bad moments they don't want documented.

The post, which has almost 12,000 likes and hundreds of comments, received a lot of praise from other parents thanking her for hitting the nail on the head.

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The post reads:

"Instagram stories. Let's talk.

If someone uses the maximum amount of stories allowed in a day (all the teeny tiny dots) guess what? All together, it totals less than an hour of their 24-hour day. Does that surprise you? It's true. It's a peek of 1/24th of their day. Furthermore, it's probably the calmest parts. After all, when was the last time you got into a fight with your husband and thought "Hang on, let me insta-story this!" or had your hands full of screaming babies and thought "Hang on... let me try and hold a phone, too!"

I really want to challenge you.

Before you look at her life and become jealous: you likely did not see her raise her voice as she struggled through schoolwork with her kids, or her picking up trash after the dog ripped it up and dragged it all over the driveway, or her doctor give her a terrifying diagnosis, or her son's preschool teacher call and say he's been a problem... Again. Or her crying because she hates her body and hasn't felt like herself in so long. Or her going to bed each day feeling guilty and like she didn't do enough for everyone. Or her husband being out of work. Or her dad who walked out on her as a kid and it still hurts. Or her burning dinner and yelling a swear word in front of her kids.

Yeah, you don't see all the bad.

But you know what? Before you look at her life and become critical, know that you didn't see her singing worship music and taking extra time as she changed her baby's diaper. You didn't see her driving all the way to recycle center when the trash would have been easier. You didn't see her close her laptop, close her eyes, and stop to pray for someone she doesn't know. You didn't see her tell her daughter, "Just keep killing them with kindness, baby" as she sobbed in her arms about a bully. You didn't see her give up "me time" to prioritize date night with her husband. You didn't see her take her oldest to lunch. You didn't see her anonymous donation.

You don't see a lot of the beautiful things that happen in her life and in her heart, because they're sacred and the first thought that pops into her mind isn't, "I should grab my phone right now."

You don't see it all. Be kind to one another."

Thank you for saying what many think, mama.

Life

Do you feel it?

That little spark ✨ in the air that only comes around this time of year is starting to buzz and pop around us. There's nothing quite like the joy and excitement that comes with counting down to the holidays—especially with your kids who think last Christmas was forever ago.

And what better way to count down to Christmas than with an Advent calendar? We've rounded up our favorites that you can use year after year, mama.

House advent calendar

It's perfectly neutral to go with any type of holiday decor, but is made to bring a spark of magic and fun as your kids rush each morning to find out what's inside the tiny drawers.

$55.30

Advent calendar wreath

This has to be the most unique advent calendar we've ever seen. We love everything about it: The simple metal hoop, the greenery and the 24 kraft boxes that can be filled with goodies for both adults and kids. It's so pretty, we might even leave it up past Christmas!

$35

Countdown to Christmas advent calendar

We love that you can fill this one with your own treats that can change as your kids grow. And it doesn't have to be sweets. It can be filled with stickers, little toys, handmade goodies and more.

$38

Modern farmhouse Christmas countdown

No treats required for this simple, beautiful sign.

$34.95

Metal advent calendar

This sleek metal sign comes with 25 small muslin bags and 30 cards you can tuck into each one. The cards have an activity or kind gesture you and your kids can do to celebrate the season.

$40

Ernie and Irene llama advent calendar

Add a touch of whimsy and coziness with this sweet calendar featuring a knit llama.

$128

DIY advent calendar kit

For the crafty mamas in the group, this sweet kit has everything you and your family need to create your advent calendar together. Once you've assembled all the houses, you can fill it with whatever treats your family will love.

$36

Customizable advent calendar

This sweet and modern fabric calendar can be customized with your family name or cherished holiday phrase. It also comes with a set of 24 activity cards you can pop into each pocket.

$107

Clever Creations traditional wooden Christmas advent calendar

Clever Creations Traditional Wooden Christmas Advent Calendar

This beautiful calendar is a showpiece. It lights up to create a cozy and festive scene.

$43

Light-up stacking house glitter advent calendar

Enjoy a tower of pre-lit cottages that will light up your home each day leading up to Christmas.

$149

My Kindness advent calendar

My Kindness Advent Calendar

The holidays are all about giving—and that doesn't stop with just material items. We can give in the form of kindness every single day, and this calendar helps us do just that.

$75

Blue and gray Christmas socks advent calendar garland

We love the twist on a traditional calendar with this sweet garland of 24 stockings.

$29.69

Motherly is your daily #momlife manual; we are here to help you easily find the best, most beautiful products for your life that actually work. We share what we love—and we may receive a commission if you choose to buy. You've got this.

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Even though I'm almost halfway through my pregnancy, I still don't trust that I'm pregnant. Some people might feel this way in the beginning of theirs (at least for a little while); shocked into disbelief that some very specific cells in our bodies can become babies. But I have a hard time believing because of my bump. Or rather, because I don't appear to have one at all.

I thought the bump would be a big part of my pregnancy and I'm bummed it's not. I assumed it would knight me into the world of impending motherhood, where you hold a funeral for all the clothes you will never fit into again; where the other people in your yoga class think you're being lazy but they don't realize you have to modify the poses so you don't squish the baby; and where you believe (unreasonably) that your dog will calm down on walks because he senses you're suddenly much more afraid of falling.

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Even without it, I do get a lot of reminders that I'm pregnant: My nipples itch constantly. I need to use the bathroom every 30 minutes (sometimes 20!). I just started getting heartburn, which I've never had before. My hobbies are picking fights with my husband, going to sleep at 8pm and not knowing what to eat for lunch because nothing is appetizing. Today I did, however, put salt on a half sour pickle.

But I'm still skeptical because my body hasn't changed. If you saw me on the street today, you would not be able to tell I'm expecting a boy in April.

I've coveted the baby bump ever since I experienced a miscarriage earlier this year. With that pregnancy, I had no symptoms at all (no nausea, no stomach twinges, no breast pain, no nothing), which I thought was a little weird, but I assumed everything would be fine. Then after the doctor confirmed I miscarried at six weeks, it made sense why I didn't feel anything.

When I found out I was pregnant this time, I was obsessed with what and how I felt and I interpreted every tiny disruption from the norm as an assurance the baby was still in there and okay. This helped ease my anxiety for a while.

A second failed pregnancy felt imminent when friends and acquaintances began remarking that I was "not showing" or "hardly showing." It seemed that while I had accumulated many pieces of pregnancy that I didn't have before, I was still missing the most universally accepted indicator I was doing a good job supporting the growth of a healthy baby: The bump.

But since I don't have it, it feels like I'm already a bad mother. It feels like my body is gaslighting me. Am I even really pregnant if there's no bump to indicate I am? It's easy to explain the symptoms away without one, as if they are caused by other factors like the weather or doing too much physical activity or just being in my 30s. It's feels like my body is betraying me. After all I've been through, my body can't (or won't) do the biggest thing that would reassure me this pregnancy is going to work out? What other mischief is it capable of?

The longed baby bump arrives at different times during pregnancy for different people and I know there are no benefits to comparing my pregnancy to anyone else's. The best thing for my health (and therefore the health of the baby) is to try and remain as calm as possible. There's no evidence to suggest anything's wrong with the baby. All my blood tests come back normal, as do all the routine screens for things like spina bifida and trisomies.

But once you doubt your body for the first time, it's very easy to do it again. From there, it's not long until you're doubting each individual piece of yourself. In addition to struggling with the fact that I don't have a bump, I also worry about my motherly intuition—that special sauce that will get me through the toughest parts of having a newborn. It would be nice if I could simply acquire it before the birth, like the baby bottles or the baby bathtub or any of the other numerous items on our baby shower registry.

Friends and family say it doesn't happen that way—it shows up after birth. This doesn't seem right! It feels like I need to have these instincts before the baby arrives. They all say, "It's hard to believe, but you'll be fine. Once the baby is here, that's when your instincts kick in. It's almost like you wake up one morning and you know enough to get through the coming days." This may be acceptable to other people, but I find it hard to believe because I have only ever been uncomfortable around infants.

I don't want my child to doubt himself the way I doubt myself. I would like him to be confident in his skills, his knowledge, in who he is as a person. I also know that in order for him to be this way, I have to show him how.

So for the next five months, I'm going to practice trusting myself. I'm going to trust my body -- that it will do what I expect it to do, which is help my baby develop and grow until he can be born. Even if it doesn't look like the bodies of any other pregnant people I see, I will believe it is working in my favor. Even if it is not as obvious that I am pregnant as I think it should be.

I'm also not going to worry I don't know enough to have a baby. I'm sure someone will say to me soon, no one knows enough to have a baby before they have a baby. Until they say it, I'm going to say it to myself. I will say it to myself when I am in the shower and when I am loading the dishwasher and when I am looking for something to watch on Netflix and when I am reading a book that I am not sure if I'm enjoying. And I will say it to pregnant women when they see I have a baby and ask for advice.

I will trust that I am going to be a good mother, for him.

Life
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