My One, My Only

May 16, 2019 § 2 Comments


thorntonMichaella A. Thornton, in a flash essay from our May 2019 issue, released this week, writes beautifully about her one, her only child, and what the stranger in the grocery store will never understand:

I will not show you photographs of my pin-pricked stomach, a quilt of blue, green, and yellow bruises with Band-Aids of the solar system over fresh injection sites. I will not show you the hardship of lying prostrate on our marriage bed, ass in the air, gritting my teeth as my husband administers the long, nightly needle, progesterone shots to keep me pregnant. He never complains; he never tells anyone else what he is going through either. I will not show you our loneliness together. I will not show you him holding a fresh, perfect baby as the doctors put my organs back into my body, as I throw up into a kidney-shaped pan, crying over and over again to my newborn daughter, “I love you. I love you so much.”

The rest of Thornton’s lovely essay can (and should) be read here.

§ 2 Responses to My One, My Only

  • May they forgive me for ever asking.

    • Michaella Thornton says:

      100 percent forgiven. I am pretty sure I asked this question before I went through infertility and loss (e.g., I need forgiveness too). Until you’re there, why would you know? Maybe this little essay, however, will help people to understand there are many reasons why we choose to have (or not have) children.

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