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Could-be-babies: my missed miscarriage of twins

I've been up all night deleting my lists of baby names, deleting my secret baby registry, unfollowing the Twins groups I joined on Facebook, throwing away the books and the ultrasound photos that I'd been proudly displaying on our fridge. I've been up all night unbecoming a mother. I had a glass of wine and sushi and it wasn't as good as I needed it to be. Women don't talk about miscarriage, even though it happens to a lot of us. A LOT.

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Prayer for the grandmother I long ago scorned

I read today that all of a woman’s eggs develop in her body when she herself is still in utero. At four months, the female fetus develops its ovaries and all of the eggs that lie therein. Which means that the seeds for every single one of us, every single human being, are planted in our mothers while our mothers are still within our grandmothers. In a sense, we were all born of our grandmothers.

You’re looking at crones. Can you see the beauty?

In our society, it is not acceptable for female-identified people to age. We are all downloaded with the message that we are supposed to look 20 years old forever. We get mad when our bodies begin to droop, sag, slow down, and our physical/mental abilities change.

But aging is a reminder that we are having a finite experience on the planet… and that is beautiful.