Short Stories Motherhood Novels & Stories

“Thanks…I guess. I hesitated to answer, scratching the back of my neck indecisively. — She will be a good mother, having the gift of storytelling will make her children rich in many ways other than just financially. - She said looking at me truly serious and honest so that it wouldn't make me even more awkward. It's not like I've thought about kids in a while. — I don't think I think about it exactly to that point, I can't have children, not genetically mine, adoption is a good point... but here and now I don't think I'm a woman prepared to be a mother, I'm impulsive and inconsequential too much all the time to break this addiction and crucify a little one with my mess. - I assumed touching

“I wish you safe delivery. Maddy, I saw the worry in her eyes. I had to tell her the story of my mother. I told her about how my mother waited for six years after marriage before she could conceive. Her eyes widened as I told her the story of my mother’s struggle to conceive. “That’s heartbreaking,” she said, her voice full of compassion. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for your mother, waiting all those years.” I nodded, my throat tight. “It was really hard for her,” I said. “But she never gave up hope.” I told her about the day my mother finally found out she was pregnant and the joy that filled our home.

"But you know what I learned? Motherhood doesn't come with an instruction manual. You learn by doing, by messing up, by trying again." Zoey looked at me, her eyes glossy as she tried to hide the emotion taking over her face. "Mom tip," she said, her voice slightly shaky. "You'll never sleep properly again. You'll never truly relax. And you'll be lucky if you manage to take a shower longer than ten minutes. Even so, they'll be the happiest moments of your life." I felt my own emotions swell in my chest, tears beginning to blur my vision. Zoey took my hands in hers, her voice growing steadier, warmer.

Son becomes the man of the house. NB: This story is for ADULT amusement only. It contains themes of erotic horror and of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. Enjoy. >>>> My mother is your standard single mother with a full-time job. She is what you would call "big-boned." She isn't overweight in any sense of the word, but she isn't skinny either. Her breasts are DD and she has an ample ass too. She just turned 39 a month after my eighteenth birthday. She has tried to slim down by swimming, yoga, jogging, etc, but just can't lose the weight. She has always had a bubbly personality, but I know her inability to lose weight was a sore spot for her. She never dresses scantily or provocatively, and

She laughs softly and hangs up. I sit with the stars for a while longer. My mother was a Lunare. A Moon-marked woman who left everything she knew to build a plain, ordinary, beautiful life in a city where no one could find what she carried. She gave me her jaw and her hands and her capacity to make something out of almost nothing. She also gave me blood that someone engineered a pregnancy around. I'm still deciding how to hold both of those things at once. A knock at the door just after midnight.

Mom slowly sank to the floor, tears flowing silently. Disturbed by the noise, Andrew opened his bedroom door, a trace of annoyance in his voice. "Mom, can you keep it down? I'm in the middle of a game." As if finding an anchor, Mom scrambled up and grabbed Andrew's hand, weeping. "Andy, your father has had another woman on the side all these years. You have to stand up for me!" Andrew shrank back, pulling his hand away. "I think Dad has a point. As long as you pretend not to know anything, we can still live peacefully as a family."

"Don't you enjoy locking people up in closed spaces? You should have a taste of your so-called setback education method, great educator!" Stuck under the dark, narrow, thin-aired space under the bed, my mother finally experienced intense fear and what it felt like to be on the verge of suffocation. Every time the prison doors were closed, she would lunge at the metal bars like a mad woman and scratch them until her fingernails fell off, leaving her fingers bloody while she screamed and cried, "Let me out! I can't breathe. Save me, Janine!"

" Emma's mother asked softly as she stood beside her daughter, who was staring at the moon outside. She was a woman in her fifties, her face worn by years of struggle.Complications during childbirth had left her physically weak, yet she never let life defeat her. She had raised Emma alone. washing dishes in others' homes, enduring hunger, swallowing humiliation. just to give her daughter a better future. Abandoned by her husband for giving birth to a girl, she had still stood tall. "Nothing, Mom... just thinking," Emma replied, wiping her eyes quickly. "A mother knows when her child is hurting," her mother said gently, pulling her closer.Trying to change the topic, Emma asked, "Do you like i

Staring at the red-covered book that was back on the shelf in front of me made me want to take it back. I got up from my sleep, took the red-covered book back and turned on the night light so it wasn't too bright. Reading my mother's writings again, this time I no longer felt touched, instead I felt lonely. There must be a reason for mama to write everything down, one thing I think is that she didn't have a place to tell the story. How sad mama is, she endures everything alone and can only express everything through writing. "Thank you for giving birth to me, Ma." My lips smiled on a page with a black and white photo of me as a baby. "I am very lucky to be born to a woman like you. You are a

"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?" Mom gave a defeated shrug, her eyes trained on our overlapping hands that rested on her tummy. "Pregnant women really get... that." I could feel a lump in my throat, but I forced my words to go around it. "Hor-ny?" Mom nodded sadly. "God, this is so pathetic. What kind of mother tells this kind of stuff to her son?" I gave her hand an empathetic squeeze, using the stability to steady its tremble. "The kind with a son who wants to listen. I love that we tell each other everything, even if it's weird."