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Cradled in the womb

dear mom

((Private entry))

dear mom,

it's getting close to your birthday again. just a week or two. i still keep trying to remember this day instead of the day you died, because your birthday makes me think of the good things, not the bad ones. also you had to go and miscarry a day before 9/11, which was totally fun. on the morning of 9/11/01 i was a little girl scared of what lots of adults i didn't know were going to do to each other, as soon as i saw the fires and smoke on the news in school. on the morning of 9/11/04 i was still only a girl, but a girl who'd lost her mother, and not to strangers from far away but to something inside half the population. i said i was going to remember your birthday, though, wasn't i?

i'll remember everything about you, always. i'll always love you. but now i love someone else even more, and i really realized that for good. it's not because i've thought of anything about you i didn't like, but because even if you were still alive, i'm not tied to you and dad anymore. i'm growing up. i'm my own person. i have someone who needs *me* the way that i need him, and in the same way. it's so different than the love between parents and children, and i'm not going to be afraid of it anymore. see, i was very afraid. and in some ways i still am, but it's not a fear of commitment, of giving myself to someone completely, or letting him give himself to me. it's a fear of something in me that has nothing to do with him— hopefully it would never affect him.

not sure where this is going. happy birthday in advance, though. i wrote a book that's basically for you more than anyone.

i miss you.