by Heather Carnaghan
There it is, the look of recognition the scan of my body and the moment she takes in my shrinking waistline. She gleefully asks, “Did you have the baby?” Timidly, I squeak out “Yes” My nod is too emphatic; it raises alarm in her eyes, She was born, but “No”, my head sways left and right, less adamantly more confused She never came home with me that day Her eyebrow raises and I doubt my answer Should she count less than babies who do? My head bobbles, my gut contracts. My limbs itch to run or fight. I race to the nearest locking door so I can catch my breath before the next “How many children do you have?” “Where’s the baby?” or “We’re expecting!”
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AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
August 2018
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