Kelly Burch

All writers have publications that are on their bucket list, and for me, The Guardian is one of those. I’ve pitched the newspaper multiple times to no avail, but I know that when it finally happens, seeing my byline in The Guardian will make for a great day.

I’m one of those bigger girls that confuses the medical community by being entirely healthy. My doctor body shamed me and lied to me about tests she ran.

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“Sleep when the baby sleeps” is the cruelest thing you can say to a new parent. It sounds oh-so-simple, doesn’t it? Just like my sleep advice sounded all those years ago, before I knew the harsh reality of parenting. It’s impossible to sleep when the baby sleeps if the baby is only down for 10 minutes at a time!

Just like kids who kick the seat in front of them and middle-aged women who get drunk and chatty on long flights, crying babies are a fact of life.

I clearly remember the first time that I was forced to accept that something was wrong.

While I would like to think that I paused for a minute or two to think about what it means to be American, I was mostly focused on looking forward to the fireworks show.
But all of that changed for me last year. Three weeks before the Fourth of July, my husband became a citizen of the United States.

Posting about my miscarriage on Facebook was the most cathartic thing I could have done for myself. It allowed me to validate my feelings.

Last week, as the U.S.

Someone yelled out a racist comment, and Trump said, “Hey, I can’t say it, but he can.”