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  • And then there are other days....days when I feel like I am being flogged by the calendar, my own creation and unrelenting taskmaster. When there seems to be no channel on which my husband and I can reach each other, and I despair about whether we will be able to turn to each other in the middle of the night, helpless and stunned in the face of a sick or screaming infant. When my expanding waistline seems to just be a symptom of a life spent negotiating pain and frustration and shame through food and self-hatred. When I can't imagine what it will mean to expand myself beyond maternity clothes to be a well of love and support and rocking and affirmation and laughter and teaching. When I am terrified by the prospect of exercising more patience than I thought I had, because right now, I feel like I have none. None for the strangers on the subway who jostle me and each other with rude indifference, for the constant bing of the email notification with one of a thousand requests a day, none for my husband, my partner, my love, none for myself, my failings, my humanity, and none for this baby, this blameless life inside me that I admit, some days, I wish could have come earlier, later, or not at all.

    I worry that there is no one here with a proper welcome.
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