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We’re always hardest on people who give into our own worst impulses, and I see my own shadow in those parents. I’m an over-sharer too.

Parents this awesome just remind me how I don't even have a baby book for 4 out of 5 of my children.

Each and every day this month, I have been looking for brief escapes from the hell that is

I scrolled through my Instagram feed to catch a photo of a friend’s first tattoo. It was an abstract design that paid homage to her wedding venue, a distinctive historic site in her home state. The tattoo seemed sweet at first, but then I read the photo caption. My friend had gotten inked to honor the child she lost in miscarriage.

Instagram: Don’t eat it though, just hold it. With a stiff, outstretched arm in front of a whimsical mural on a decaying brick wall.

[CN: mention of suicide] It’s not all real. We don’t live curated lives that are built around purposeful omissions of reality...

There are thousands of photos, on Instagram alone, of bleeding wrists, razor blades, scars, and quotes about death. The captions read: “beautiful,” “the blade’s my best friend,” and “please don’t report me, I am such a failure.”