Gemma Hartley

When I made the decision to become a stay-at-home mother, the choice was an easy one.

When my son was little, I used to let him win board games a lot.

I felt unique in my passion for martial arts, my affinity for Call of Duty, my go-with-the-flow attitude toward boyish adventures. I wanted to be “one of the guys,” while still retaining the distinction of my sexuality. I longed to be the quintessential cool girl — desirable yet approachable. But in retrospect, all that really amounted to internalized misogyny.

My husband and I have been together for 12 years, eight of them married, four of them teenaged.

Despite endless exhortations to "enjoy every second," the reality of three toddlers is not always a Disney postcard. And it's okay for some moms to admit that they look forward to having a little less mess, a little more serenity.

Travelling solo for the first time allowed me to regain my sense of self outside of motherhood. It showed me that I could still be a whole and interesting person without using my kids as my stand-in.

My first child’s milestones were elaborately marked, photographed, and celebrated with much fanfare... My third child however? Not so much. His first birthday was a much quieter affair — if it could be called an affair at all.

Anti-choice folks love to say that these laws aren’t about controlling and punishing a large portion of the population, they are about the sanctity of life. And life, according to those who are anti-choice, begins when sperm meets egg.

It wasn’t the name I would have picked — not originally, at least — but as days turned into weeks, it grew on me.