Connect with us

Editorials

The 13 Edgar Allan Poe Stories to Read If You Loved “The Fall of the House of Usher”

Published

on

Warning: The following contains major spoilers for The Fall of the House of Usher and the works of Edgar Allen Poe. 

In recent years, Mike Flanagan has become known for emotional adaptations of classic horror literature. After a series of original films, Flanagan brought Stephen King’s famously unfilmable novel Gerald’s Game to life then set his sights on the work of Shirley Jackson. His Netflix series The Haunting of Hill House dramatically expanded the legendary story and brought us all to tears with an intimate examination of parenting through the years. Flanagan followed this with The Haunting of Bly Manor, a mind-bending take on The Turn of the Screw, and The Midnight Club, a spooky mashup of Christopher Pike’s YA bibliography. 

For his latest Netflix series, Flanagan tackles the work of Edgar Allan Poe. Following the wealthy Usher family, the director takes some of his trademark liberties to tell a larger story about greed, power, and pain. The Fall of the House of Usher may be named for a singular story, but this eight-episode series expertly weaves together the gothic poet’s most popular titles. For viewers enthralled by this devious family and their spectacular destruction, the following thirteen stories, poems, and novel will shed further light on the Usher house’s sinister origins. 


“The Fall of the House of Usher”

Poe’s classic story follows an unnamed narrator who receives a letter from his childhood friend Roderick, summoning him to the Usher family’s notorious home. Having fallen into decay, the narrator notes a sinister aura permeating the place as well as a giant crack on the house’s façade. Fearing the imminent death of his twin sister Madeline, Usher languishes for days trying to find comfort in this visit with an old friend. When she finally passes away, the two men entomb her in the family crypt only to later realize they may have buried her alive. Madeline’s undead apparition bursts forth from the grave in the midst of a nightmarish thunderstorm and frightens her brother to death as the house collapses around them. 

Flanagan uses the bones of this story to frame his series. The first episode sees his mother Eliza (Annabeth Gish), named for Poe’s mother, crawl out of her own grave during a thunderstorm, but it’s Madeline’s (Mary McDonnell) reanimation that brings both an end to her brother’s life and the destruction of the Usher home. Rather than childless twins, Flanagan’s House of Usher is a dynasty with six children and one grandchild vying to carry on the family name. At the end of his life, Roderick (Bruce Greenwood) summons an old frenemy C. Auguste Dupin (Carl Lumbly) to his similarly decrepit childhood home. Over priceless drinks he recounts the devilish bargain he made to secure wealth and power. 


“The Purloined Letter”

Auguste Dupin is one of Poe’s recurring characters and widely considered to be the first literary detective. Though first introduced by “The Murders in the Rue Morgue,” another story may be more adept at capturing the essence of his modern equivalent. Dupin’s third outing involves the case of a letter stolen from French royalty. The ingenious detective finds the paper hiding in plain sight by mimicking the mannerisms of the unknown thief. He then concocts an elaborate scheme to retrieve the document from under the nose of the guilty party.  

Flanagan’s Dupin (Malcolm Goodwin) meets Roderick (Zach Gilford) as a young man, but eventually becomes the pharmaceutical tycoon’s most prominent foe. Initially working together, Dupin works out a scheme to steal forged documents from Fortunato, the company built by Roderick’s absentee father. Unfortunately, it seems Roderick has been playing Dupin and betrays him at a critical moment, forever casting them on opposing sides of the moral dial. While finally prosecuting the Ushers in the present day, Dupin attempts to think like Roderick and suggests that a member of the Usher family has handed over sensitive information. But Dupin is ultimately unable to sustain the ruse, proving himself to be a decent man through and through. 


“The Masque of the Red Death”

The Fall of the House of Usher Review

In one of Poe’s most prescient allegories, Prince Prospero attempts to use his enormous wealth to insulate his household from a deadly plague known as the Red Death. He throws a lavish masquerade ball for his powerful friends, squandering his resources on luxury while ignoring the disease-ridden world outside the abbey walls. As the night wears on, an ominous clock chimes at every hour, causing the revelors to pause and consider the passage of time. Meanwhile a mysterious figure wanders through the party, hidden by a blood-stained robe that could be a funeral shroud. This sinister guest is eventually revealed to be a manifestation of the Red Death itself, infiltrating the party and thwarting Prosepro’s attempts to outsmart disease and death. 

Flanagan uses this famous tale to kick off the Usher family bloodbath. Prospero “Perry” Usher (Sauriyan Sapkota) is Roderick’s youngest son desperate for his father’s stamp of approval and the loan that will secure his place in the family dynasty. When Roderick refuses to fund a luxurious night club proposal, Perry plans a drug-fueled party in one of the family’s condemned buildings. Unfortunately he has been ignoring his father’s misdeeds, only concerned with the Usher family wealth. As the expensive party rages on, a mysterious woman in a red cloak wanders from room to room. She warns him about the consequences of his actions, summarizing the heart of Poe’s story as well as Flanagan’s larger thesis. Perry showers his dancing guests with what he believes to be water, but accidentally douses them with acidic chemicals. Mimicking the symptoms of Poe’s plague, every member of the party begins to melt as the corrosive liquid unleashes its bloody red death upon them all. 


“The Murders in the Rue Morgue”

Regarded as the first modern detective story, “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” introduces Dupin as he investigates the grisly deaths of Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter Camille. After alerting their neighbors with screams in the night, the two women are found gruesomely murdered in a room locked from the inside. Thinking outside the box, Dupin eventually reveals the culprit to be an orangutan who has recently escaped from the nearby docks. 

Flanagan’s Camille L’Espanaya (Kate Siegel) is Roderick’s youngest daughter and a media mogul adept at spinning any story to her advantage. Harboring an irrational hatred for her older sister Victorine (T’Nia Miller), Camille directs her assistants to dig up information on her sister’s clinical trials. The ostensibly benevolent doctor has spent a tremendous amount of Usher money developing a revolutionary heart mesh device at a facility cheekily called the R.U.E Morgue due to the upsetting practice of testing on chimps. Like Dupin, Camille is a skilled detective and discovers that Victorine has been doctoring her clinical records. Barging into the lab in the dead of night, Camille suffers the same fate as her literary counterpart and dies at the hands of an angry primate. 


“The Black Cat”

Leo Usher

One of the more disturbing stories in Poe’s catalog is also a cautionary tale about the dangers of addiction. An unnamed narrator awaits execution and tells his story beginning with a fondness for a black cat named Pluto. As his drinking increases, the narrator finds himself compelled to torture the poor cat, eventually gouging out its eye and hanging it by the neck from a tree. Seemingly punished for this cruelty, the narrator’s house soon burns down and he falls into poverty. He later adopts another cat that bears a striking resemblance to Pluto save for a mocking white mark on the animal’s chest. When his wife stops him from killing the cat, the narrator murders her instead and hides the body in the walls of his home. The curious black cat alerts police to her location by meowing from inside the walls while sitting on the head of the decomposing corpse. 

Flanagan uses this tale to destroy Roderick’s fourth child Napoleon (Rahul Kohli). During a blackout drunk, “Leo” kills his boyfriend’s cat Pluto then frantically scours the city looking for a replacement. This sinister feline begins to torment Leo, scratching his eye and leaving the bloody bodies of its prey around the apartment. Like Poe’s narrator, Leo’s life begins to spin out of control and he retreats into drugs as the bodies of his siblings accumulate along with the disemboweled vermin littering his home. After a particularly vicious scratch, the cat disappears into the walls and Leo destroys his apartment with a sledgehammer, hoping to find and kill the sinister feline. Fortunately, Leo’s boyfriend escapes the fate of the narrator’s wife, but Leo falls to his death after recklessly chasing the cat over the balcony ledge. 


“The Tell-Tale Heart”

One of Poe’s most popular tales, “The Tell-Tale Heart” has come to symbolize debilitating guilt and paranoia. This short story follows an unstable young man who decides to murder his elderly neighbor to destroy his unnerving pale blue eye. After stalking this kindly acquaintance for a week, the narrator kills and dismembers the man, burying his body under the floorboards. When police interview him about a scream heard in the night, the narrator becomes consumed with the sound of his victim’s heart beating from within the floor, tormenting him with its loud pulses until he is driven to confess. 

With her experiment failing, Victorine attempts to save face by rushing into human trials. With a calculated coldness, she fakes test results and manipulates data, putting countless lives in danger to seek her father’s approval. When her girlfriend refuses to go along with this fraud, Victorine accidentally bludgeons her with a heavy bookend, then attempts to revive the dying woman with the proprietary device. As the days wear on, Victorine begins to hear the subtle squeak of the heart mesh taunting her from an unknown source. She tries to drown this noise out with loud music, but Roderick eventually finds the corpse of his daughter’s girlfriend, her crudely opened chest pulsing with a bloody heart and the failed medical device. 


“William Wilson”

House of Usher production design - Samantha Sloyan

Though Flanagan’s sixth episode is titled for Poe’s story “The Gold-Bug,” it bears closer resemblance to the eerie story of “William Wilson.” The titular nobleman meets a childhood classmate with the same name, appearance, and birthday as himself, resenting this doppelgänger as he seems to overshadow William’s life. Only able to speak in a whisper, this double inspires reckless behavior and thwarts his attempts to gain power and position in society. Tormented for years, William finally confronts the double in a mirrored room and kills the man with a sword, only to realize he has actually impaled himself. 

An allegory for insecurity, this story perfectly shows Roderick’s second child’s struggle to find acceptance in a ruthless family. Named Tamerlane (Samantha Sloyan) after Poe’s poem about a man who ignores his true love to build a kingdom, Flanagan’s Tammy pushes away a compassionate husband in order to lead a program she hopes will rebuild her family’s negative image. Obsessed with the launch of a lifestyle brand called Goldbug, a nod to Poe’s story about cryptic obsession, she begins to encounter a double of herself who seems poised to replace her and right the course of her rapidly spiraling life. After this double sabotages Tammy’s much anticipated event, she hunts the mysterious woman down with a fire poker and winds up impaling herself on shattered mirror glass in her own bedroom. 


“The Pit and the Pendulum”

One of Poe’s most harrowing stories recounts the trials of an unnamed narrator thrown into a notorious prison of the Spanish Inquisition. After awakening in a pitch-black cell, the frightened man discovers a pit in the center of the floor that would send him plummeting to his death. Sometime later, the narrator finds himself strapped to a table with a bladed pendulum swinging above him. With each swipe growing closer to his heart, the narrator is rescued in the nick of time by the French Army who immediately shut down the deadly facility. 

Flanagan uses this story to tear apart Usher’s oldest child. Freddy (Henry Thomas) has long been seen as the heir apparent, though his father withholds the unconditional love he truly craves. When Freddy’s wife is maimed at Prospero’s deadly party, Freddy becomes consumed with discovering what other secrets she may be hiding. He conducts his own inquisition by torturing her at home with a paralytic drug. The abusive husband eventually removes her teeth with pliers, a nod to Poe’s disturbing and controversial story “Berenice.” Undone by his own cruelty, Freddy accidentally snorts the paralytic and finds himself trapped inside a condemned building during demolition. A massive piece of debris swings back and forth above him as the roof collapses, eventually cutting his torso in two. 


The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket

Poe’s only completed novel follows a Nantucket man who goes on a globe-trotting adventure. As a young man, Arthur Gordon Pym finds himself caught in a storm after a drunken attempt to steal a dinghy. This begins a sea-faring journey in which the intrepid young man sneaks aboard a ship called the Grampus, surviving mutinies and attacks before eventually finding a passageway to the center of the Earth. The story ends somewhat abruptly as Pym views a mysterious figure rising from the planet’s hollow center, hinting at a race of beings who live outside the laws of time and humanity.

Flanagan’s Pym is another type of sailor. As the Usher family’s sole lawyer, Pym navigates the treacherous legal waters constantly threatening to drown his felonious clients. As a young man, Pym maneuvered his way onto the Trans-Globe Expedition, an adventure similar to that of his literary counterpart. Usher implies that he may have participated in atrocities and tasted human flesh. However, there is one part of the journey Pym refuses to divulge, mirroring the vague ending of Poe’s novel. Flanagan posits that the figure he saw rising from the Earth’s core is the same being now determined to end the Usher family line. 


“The Cask of Amontillado”

One of Poe’s darkest stories proves to be the lynchpin of Flanagan’s series. “The Cask of Amontillado” follows a nobleman named Montresor who vows revenge against Fortunato, an arrogant acquaintance with a taste for wine. As punishment for a grievous insult, Montresor plays on the man’s ego and lures him down into his family’s cellar with the promise of a particular brand of sherry called Amontillado. Once the drunken man has entered the catacombs, Montresor chains him in place then slowly builds a brick wall around the raving man. Wearing the silk costume of a court jester, Fortunato begs for mercy, but Montresor leaves him there to die, his body remaining undisturbed for 50 years. 

Flanagan hints at this final story from the opening moments of the series with a snippet of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall.” In flashbacks we watch Roderick work his way up through the Fortunato ranks by manipulating the current CEO Rufus Griswold (Michael Trucco). After a particularly devious court victory, Roderick and Madeline (Willa Fitzgerald) lure Rufus to the basement then wall him into the foundation of the future Fortunato headquarters. Placing his belled jester’s hat on the dying man’s head, the siblings leave him there to die then scramble to cover their tracks. This murder haunts Roderick for decades and he makes frequent trips down to the basement where he occasionally hears the faint tinkling of a ghostly bell. 


“Ligeia”

One of Poe’s earliest stories follows an unnamed narrator who marries a woman named Ligeia. Entranced with her raven hair and ethereal manner, he falls deeply in love then bitterly mourns when she passes away. The man later enters a loveless marriage with a woman named Rowena though he can’t stop thinking about his first wife. Constantly compared to an impossible standard, Rowena’s anxiety grows. The narrator plies her with opiates and she eventually dies as well. After a hellish cycle of revival and relapse, Rowena returns to life and transforms into the narrator’s lost love Ligeia. 

Flanagan uses this story as an allegory for greed and addiction. After watching his mother die in excruciating pain, Roderick builds his fortune on a highly addictive pain-killer called Ligadone. His second wife, Juno (Ruth Codd), a former addict now taking heavy doses of the drug, may resemble Ligeia, but like Rowena, their marriage is loveless. When Juno asks to wean herself off of Ligadone, it becomes perfectly clear that Roderick only loves watching her thrive on his patented drug. An epilogue tells us that Juno eventually clears her system of Ligadone in an excruciating three year withdrawal process, mirroring Rowena’s painful death and eventual transcendence. 


“Annabel Lee”

Poe’s last completed poem is a heartbreaking story of love and loss. An unnamed narrator falls for a woman named Annabel Lee, but their earthly time together is short. Separated by death, the narrator pines away for his lost love, envisioning her eyes in the stars and laying down next to her tomb by the sea. Believing their romance to be stronger than death itself, the narrator longs for the moon to bring him dreams of his lost love.

Flanagan uses Poe’s gorgeous poem to show the true tragedy of Roderick’s life. We first meet the future entrepreneur as a young husband and father struggling to make ends meet with his wife Annabel Lee (Katie Parker). Though poor, they are happy and Roderick frequently recites poems to his bride, lines from Poe’s own famous verse. However, as Roderick succumbs to greed and ambition, his marriage begins to sour. Annabel leaves him and Flanagan hints that she dies by suicide after her former husband lures their children away with his dazzling wealth. By attempting to avoid the pain of poverty and powerlessness, he has lost the one true love of his life.


“The Raven”

Poe’s most famous poem anchors Flanagan’s tale and provides a window into his overall message. This haunting verse follows another unnamed narrator whiling away the lonely hours on a dark and stormy night. A mysterious raven continues to tap at his window then calls to him from above the mantle, endlessly repeating the word “nevermore.” Plagued by painful memories, the narrator longs for his lost love Lenore as the raven reminds him that, like Annabel Lee, she too is forever gone. 

Flanagan personifies this raven with the character of Verna (Carla Gugino), a dark-haired woman who seems to stalk the Usher family as they die one by one. In addition to his six children, Roderick has a granddaughter named Lenore (Kyliegh Curran), said to represent the best of the family’s strengths. While talking to Dupin, he repeatedly receives texts from Lenore’s phone, but ignores them. We later learn that Lenore has also died as a result of an agreement Roderick made many years ago, the last of his bloodline gone forever. The texts represent a glitch in Madeline’s AI algorithm, repeatedly texting Roderick the single word, “nevermore.” As his life comes to an end, Verna confronts Roderick with the consequences of his actions. There is no escaping the pain of life and in trying to do so, he has caused immeasurable misery for everyone he loves. 

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

Published

on

Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

Continue Reading