My mother lies in her adjustable nursing-home bed, her upper body and head elevated. I sit beside her bed, reading her a Psalm. She tolerates it, for the moment. Even when she had no more words, my mother rejected me, as her dad had rejected her.

Newborn

  • Post category:Trauma and Grief
  • Post last modified:March 9, 2024

Now, at last, my mom is getting to experience what a newborn should experience. But it didn't have to look like this. It didn't have to end where it should have begun, with the middle of the story lost in the chaos of trying again and again to rewrite the start.

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