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I have been finding myself unable to write lately and miss it. I start posts and don’t finish them. They ring false somehow. I haven’t cried much since M was born and I wonder if I need to cry to banish the falseness. I spend a lot of time wondering. I miss her. I love him. I love her, too, and am confused by what his existence means in relation to her absence. I imagine if I had to choose: her or him? This life or that one? Of course, there is no choice; but there could never have been both and that is a hard truth to settle with, so I wonder and I love and I miss and mourn and need to write but don’t.

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