Gemma Hartley

I wish I had realized there was no such thing as being too young to have mental health issues. That there was nothing shameful about postpartum struggles.

At Santa Rosa Christian School, dancing was a gateway drug. The gyrating, the slow romantic swaying...

When my son was a baby, I used my husband as a second set of hands. He was my co-parent, the other caretaker... I was no longer viewing him as my partner, but rather as an aide to attaining the next level of mothering. Even though my husband never called me out on my behavior, I slowly but surely hung up my need for perfection. Because if being a great mother means being a crappy wife, I don't want any part of it.

Raise a glass to Friendsgiving - feasting without any sides of controversy or conspiracy theorizing. Friendsgiving is the best of all feasts.

Getting pregnant after postpartum depression may have stolen a lot from me, but it gave me a lot more.

The money is great, but it is not the best part of becoming a working mom. Having my own career has shifted the power balance of my relationship.

But I was yet to face the cold, hard fact that my lack of acceptance for my own body, was really a lack of acceptance for all the bodies I had falsely embraced for so long. Could I really love someone else’s ample stomach, when I could not love my own?

This straggler struggle is weighing on me! That is, the struggle of having one straggler child left at home, and I’m wondering if it will ever get better.

My six-year-old son got into the car after school and declared he only wanted to have one kid when he grew up.

I’m not saying there is no joy to motherhood. I go through periods where I do feel like I’m at my parenting best. There are times when I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the amazing life and children I’ve been given. It can be so, so good. But what I’m saying is, it doesn’t always have to feel like that.