It’s the girl’s 15th birthday. She's lovely. She rides, she sings, she's got a 4.0 grade in trig so far this year.
A couple of weeks ago, she told me she wished she’d been born a year earlier, so she could start learning to drive. “My friend N. is getting her learner’s permit next week, and D’s getting hers at the end of the month. I wish I was turning sixteen.”
I gently pointed out that if she’d been born a year earlier she’d have been a different person.
It’s a funny thing to think about. If you hadn’t been made of that egg and that sperm, who would you be?
And then, somehow, because it seemed related, I told her that I’d had a miscarriage, before she was born. She took it all in stride, as she does most things, and went back to SnapChatting while controlling the car's music. (I liked it when she sat in the back seat and I had total music control. At least I don't hate everything she puts on.)
Yesterday, I was again reminded that miscarriage is one of those taboo subjects - so many people have had one, but until you raise your hand and say "here too", you don't know. Because, it turns out that Michelle Obama had a miscarriage, and went on to use IVF to conceive the two Obama children.
"Reflecting on it now, Mrs. Obama says she wished she knew other women had experienced miscarriages as well — a lesson that would have helped lift the shame she associated with it."
Let's remember to talk about the hard things. It's better when you don't feel alone.
Oh, and wish me luck. She's having 10 girls over for a slumber party tonight.
3 comments:
I had a miscarriage too. You're right, people need to say these things out loud.
Happy, happy birthday to M! I hope the party was just as splendid as she is. And here's a toast to you, too, for all these years of stories: saying so many things out loud, the happy and the sad, makes us all better.
Me too. Hope you are still sane after party.
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