
Picture, if you will, the perfect mom. She isn’t too young or too old, and her two beautiful children are the requisite 2.2 years apart in age. She’s not too frumpy but also, not overly made up. She’s dressed in comfortable yet stylish clothes, walking her carefully groomed kids to school (on time!) with her own hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. A healthy lunch is tucked into each child’s monogrammed backpack, and later, she’ll drive them to soccer or piano lessons in a gleaming white SUV.



In the early stages of my last trimester I had a dream that my son was born with a birthmark on his face. It was a coin-sized, purplish mark on his cheek. I remember feeling complete and utter anguish for my son during this very vivid dream.


