August 11, 2015

“I was a mother. That was supposed to mean something. The man said so. A mother was woman most mighty. She was human to the umpteenth reality. She was what all others aspired to be. I was supposed to be happy. I was expected to place my hands upon my stomach and revel in the children’s occupancy. Each time I touched the meat, I felt ashamed that I could not stop the pregnancy. It was disheartening. I tried to end the children through various means but none worked. The children triumphed, I lost. I felt that I could not be saved. The children had teeth and too many bones. The children already knew the ways of the world and that worldliness was intimidating. How was it possible to give birth to something that knew more than you?”

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