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This is the last day of my thirties, a decade I’ve spent BECOMING.
With only two years of marriage under my belt I was still becoming a wife at thirty. At thirty one I said goodbye to people who are parts of my identity and became an immigrant. I’ve spent the following years adapting and learning what becoming a North American would look like for me. At thirty three I became a mother. At thirty five I got stuck in limbo trying to become a mother once again. I became a fertility clinic returning patient and a miscarriage statistic instead. I learned that sometimes the fears that plague my mind, but are so well contained in there, will leak out and infiltrate reality. I learned that while I can control those well-contained fears, I can’t control reality. At thirty six I released my breath when I became a mother for…
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