Author: imabdullahdera@gmail.com

The arrival of a child should be a time of celebration and support, but for me, it became a stark revelation of where I stood

He left on a Tuesday. Six months pregnant, I stood in my Ohio kitchen as my husband, Brett, announced he’d met someone at his CrossFit

Society often rushes to label people, placing them in boxes based on perceived limitations. But the human spirit has a way of defying every expectation.

The phone call from the hospital was every parent’s nightmare. My eight-year-old daughter, Mia, was in critical condition with third-degree burns on both hands. Rushing

Life can pivot on a single, quiet moment. Mine happened on a damp Friday evening over ten years ago. I was a tired twenty-seven-year-old, my

As a single mom for years, I knew my wedding day would be about blending my world with Michael’s. I didn’t expect my 12-year-old son,

Vanessa was running on the fumes of jet lag and anticipation. After three long weeks on a business trip, she had planned the perfect, quiet

I was drowning on dry land. In a sterile hospital room, with my chronic lung disease flaring, my younger sister Hannah leaned over my bed.

It sits in nearly every kitchen, a humble jar of red powder often reached for without a second thought. But paprika’s story is anything but

Sophie didn’t do her job for glamour. She did it for her 16-year-old brother, for the rent, for the groceries. So when she arrived at