Gemma Hartley

As a freelancer who works from home, I get the best of both worlds as a parent.

I had a lot of well-meaning friends and family searching for the right words to say after my back-to-back miscarriages. So many offered solace by guessing at where my lost babies resided in the ether: taken away to Heaven, perhaps forever, perhaps waiting for a better moment— an unknown, destined time these small souls were meant to break into the world. I accepted these comments silently, because they did nothing to comfort me.

I wonder because I think I'm making the same mistakes with my daughter. She hardly eats. She's very picky. I feel like food is a constant struggle between us. I also feel like it's all my fault.

If you were to walk into my house on any given day, you wouldn’t know that I am an efficient and organized person.

There is a chasm separating "bad behavior" from "being bad." Our kids have to learn from us that their one-time actions do not permanently define them.

I am sometimes painfully envious of other (usually childless) writers who are doing the very thing I swore I would have done by now — publishing a novel.

There is a time to be prudent and fair to “many sides” of an issue, but dealing with Nazis is not that time.

Last week, the internet went into an understandable uproar when a Christian woman decided to take to Facebook to talk about how she is

To be honest, it’s exhausting, and I am ready to shed this pesky baby weight once and for all. I mean that literally.