It is a strange feeling to learn about life through its passing. Twice since we have been married  the idea of children has glimmered in briefly and then out–more swiftly– in blood clots. Andjoli sits in between these losses, and her life makes the possibility of another one a little more real this time around. Because I know a child, my child, to be more than a bit of blood and mush.

I don’t know why I am telling this to strangers. Or how I am supposed to tell this to family. Or why I am doing those two things in a single stroke.

We are fine, I am mostly tired. We had family here, had a friend leaving for the other side of the world, had a first birthday party to attend. And I had blood clots, a bit of bearing down in the middle of it. And we went on.

We go on, just the same.

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