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By Elizabeth Cranford Garcia

Before the fist in your belly tightens, pulls you from your deep blue sleep, plucks the strings of your hunger, a minor chord echoing down the hall, I feel the burn of your need: milk-hard breasts, wheelbarrows heavy with river rock. This is the weight of mercy, the body’s need to empty itself, to fill …

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Saviors

By Elizabeth Cranford Garcia

A few months ago, I read an article about a Palestinian woman injured in a car accident who could not breastfeed her nine-month-old son. He refused a bottle for seven hours, screaming with hunger, his aunts desperate. Then a Jewish nurse arrived for her shift, and volunteered to nurse him. The expression on the faces …

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The Jungle Mother

Today’s guest post is by Eliana Osborn, who is a writer and everything else in Arizona.  She blogs most weeks for the Chronicle of Higher Education about adjunct professor life at the community college level.

It’s so wet I can’t smell the sulfur of the volcano even though it is right ahead of me. Instead it appears we’ve been hiking for a mile down a gravel path, rainy season in full force, just to read about geological happenings. My four year old is a blueberry in his insulated raincoat, hood pulled tight. Strapped to my front in the baby carrier, Owen’s six months old and having the time of his life. He’s got a hat and a waterproofed nursing cover draped around him. I’ve got my purple North Face jacket open to shield his arms and an umbrella overhead.

As we stand at the edge of the abyss, all I see are clouds. Every so often though the fog lifts and a crater appears, striated with color and puffing little bursts of steam up to join the clouds all around.

“Should we try the jungle path for another view?” My husband can tell this isn’t the Costa Rican vacation I thought we were getting into. We’re here, though, so what else is there to do but hike?

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Nursing Politics

By Kylie Turley

I DO NOT MOON PEOPLE. I can safely say that I have never, will never, could never, in my entire life, moon anyone. I have absolutely no desire nor inclination to drop my drawers and—well, this is clearly a place to avoid vivid description. So why would I, a woman who would never expose one …

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