truths
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that first,
I was a different kind of mother
and nothing about that is self-evident
"Our baby died yesterday. Please help us..."
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We are strangers to one another. You arrived to me through a website in a series of zeroes and ones. But we are space travellers connected forever by shared astrophysics. I was once pulled apart into a drifting cloud of atoms and molecules. Like oil in a dish, my specks magnetically drew to one another over what felt like millennia until there were enough atoms and molecules for an arm, a kidney, an ear, until I was myself again.
Read MoreTidings of comfort
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Every day this month, I head into the cold and walk to the mailbox. For a moment I pause; preparing myself for what I’ll open and find. I tuck the small bundle of bright envelopes under my arm and run back inside, the tension within me building. The holiday cards have started arriving, and I feel emptier than usual.
Read MoreCommon ground
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Hiding in a dark was the final step of my poorly executed plan. Avoidance. Protection. Head down. It will be over soon. In an hour, we can all just move on and forget about it. But I couldn’t let it go. The notion that my absence would be noted, that the assumptions others made would be wrong. There are coworkers who have made no mention of my daughter, despite the pictures and stillbirth research fundraising flyers, her name written all over my office. Even from the ones that know of all three of my children, I lack the confidence in their ability to consider my past in the context of the present.
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