Lindsay King-Miller

She will deal with the repercussions of other people’s dysfunctional relationship with guns, whether she chooses to or not.

I just tell my daughter the truth about my period: I have PMS, my back is killing me, and we’re going to eat a lot of chocolate.

The decision to terminate a pregnancy is often informed by the needs of the children a pregnant person is already raising.

I never want my child to doubt herself the way I do myself. I never want her to feel the anxieties that weigh me down, though I know she already senses it.

The fact is that trans-exclusionary feminists and misogynists are, despite some trivial differences, basically on the same side.

Someone I have never met donated a large sum of money, for no other reason than they felt it was the right thing to do, to help my family feel safe.

I keep waiting for the wane of the “gender reveal party,” one of the most widely-disparaged-on-social-media parenting trends.

People talk about skin care like it’s fun — a way to relax. But for me, the very idea opens onto a black hole of self-loathing.

Asking for help is the hardest part. The truth is that asking for help is uncomfortable, even when we’ve been repeatedly reassured that it’s welcome.

While it might seem frivolous to those who feel right at home in the titles "mom" or "dad," many queer parents agonize over what they want their children to call them.