It is while walking behind them–my mother pushing the wheelchair, my daughter stretching back to hold my grandma’s hand–that I am struck by the brevity of life. We are four generations of time, walking together. Grandma’s hands have wrapped around the tiny infant fingers of my mother, my own as a little girl, and now around my daughter’s. Different, yet the same. The yin and yang of past and present.

When my grandma read the essay I wrote for the mother in me, we talked about her miscarriages–so many that they blurred together and she lost count. We had shed our tears years apart, yet the shared struggle bound us together. Past and present, mingling.

When my mom read “Ice,” we talked about her years as a young mother, how easy it is to feel trapped, how pulling weeds (sometimes with ferocious energy) became her therapy. “I know how you feel,” she said, “but I wish you could write with the perspective you will have in a few years.” Past, present, and future.

With her comment, I thought about another yin and yang–the moment and the eternal. The difficulty of being fully in the present without being consumed by it, and the converse danger of focusing on the eternal at the expense of the present. The writing in the mother in me mirrors this struggle to balance eternal perspective with temporary circumstance.

I admire these women who had the courage to tie their experiences to the page, committing the raw imperfections of the moment to the pemanence of ink. Their writing is honest, brave, real. It has allowed me to see with other eyes and feel with a different heart. In addition to the fragments of time captured on the pages, I appreciate the perspective that comes from discussing these stories with other women. They each add layers of meaning from their own variety of perspectives, and we connect both to the writing and to each other.

It is in the spirit of these connections that the staff of Segullah has created a book club guide for the mother in me. We invite you again to savor the flawed beauty of early motherhood, to think, stretch, connect. Not everyone will relate to the experiences in the book, but chances are that something in it will touch your spirit. The feelings of loss, pain, healing, guilt, and grace are not limited to the realm of motherhood, but the process of learning how to mother is often a crucible that sears these feelings into our souls. Whether you are a young mother, a future mother, a grandma, an aunt, a sister, or a friend, we hope you will rediscover the power of ordinary lives and the divinity inherent in every woman’s story, including your own.

To inquire about having a contributing author attend your book club, please send an email to bookclubvisits@gmail.com.

Those who are not able to participate in a book club may join the online discussion by writing a review at amazon.com, deseretbook.com, or blogging about the book.