Hey, it's Latif from Radio Lab. Our goal with each episode is to make you think,

how did I live this long and not know that? Radio Lab, Adventures on the Edge of What We Think

We Know. Listen, wherever you get podcasts.

This is the takeaway. I'm Melissa Harris Perry. Good to have you with us. Now last month, I had the

pleasure of introducing an academic colleague during a professional conference. She's one of those

bona fide scholarly stars. An award-winning teacher with a Pulitzer Prize? I couldn't wait to

corner her for a lengthy conversation about research, but instead,

she greeted me with an unexpected question. Can I show you a picture of my son?

My colleague's journey to motherhood wasn't swift or easy, but she's now the adoptive mother of a beautiful,

I mean, truly gorgeous baby boy. We sat hunched over, peering her iPhone as she scrolled through

hundreds of photos, her unreserved allation with motherhood, leaving us both in laughter.

This, I suppose, is the story we all want to tell about motherhood,

about having mothers, about being mothers.

Sharing her maternal joy in those moments,

it felt like visiting a hallmark card,

the kind with music and confetti printed on scented paper.

There are many other stories of motherhood.

About having mothers, about being mothers.

Sometimes the story isn't bad, it's just complicated.

The stories that make us reach for the Mother's Day card on the simply stated shelf.

Some of the stories are brutal, inexplicable, violent, devastating, and at times. There's just no story at all. Just a wide, gaping, void, longing, unfulfilled, questions without answers.

And these are the stories that make us avert our gaze and hustle past the card aisle altogether.

...