February 1, 2007
My mother. My mother. Like she was ever mine. Like I ever knew her. Like she ever knew me. The deepest connection we had, maybe the only connection we ever had, was when we were one being. When there was still hope, at least for me. I donít know what she thought when I was part of her; if she looked forward to a new child or if it was a burden, or if it was something she couldnít admit, even to herself, that she didnít want, when her parents suffered so many lost babies and wanted her so much.