Still Born

The truth was they were both inept, but it is always easier to blame others for what we cannot tolerate in ourselves, what we cannot forgive ourselves for.

There is a word to describe someone who loses their spouse, and a word for children who are left without parents. There is no word, however, for a parent who loses their child.

It is easy, when we are young, to have ideals and to live according to them. What is more complicated is acting consistently over time, and in spite of the challenges life puts in our way.

Watching a baby as it sleeps is to contemplate the fragility of all life. […] The death of a newborn is something so common it surprises no one and yet, how can we accept it when we have been so moved by its beauty? I watch this baby sleep, swaddled in its green sleepsuit, its head to one side on the little white pillow, and I wish fervently for it to carry on living, for nothing to disrupt its sleep or its life, for it to be shielded from all the dangers of the world, and for it to be overlooked by the destructive path of life's whirlwind of catastrophes, 'Nothing will happen to you while I'm here,' I promise, knowing, even as I say it, that I am lying, for deep down I am as helpless and vulnerable as this baby.

yo pienso que llega un punto donde todas las madres nos damos cuenta de esto: tenemos a los hijos que tenemos, no a los que nos imaginábamos o a los que nos hubiera gustado tener, y es con ellos con quienes nos toca lidiar.

Cuanto más queremos a una persona, más frágiles y más inseguros nos sentimos a causa de esta.

I admit I found this hard to understand. Why did she want to get to know her daughter if she was going to die straight away? Wasn't she running the risk of getting even more attached to her? Then I thought that love is frequently illogical, incomprehensible. Many of us do the same when we fall in love with someone who is very ill, or who lives far away, or with someone involved in another love story that has no room for us. Who has not plunged headlong into an irreconcilable love affair knowing it has no future, and clinging to a glimmer of hope as flimsy as a blade of grass? ‘Pourquoi durer est-il mieux que brûler?’ wondered Roland Barthes, sceptically. Love and common sense are not always compatible. In general, one tends to choose intensity no matter how little time it lasts, and in spite of all that it puts at risk.

We daughters have a tendency to see in our mother’s mistakes the source of all our problems, and our mothers tend to consider our defects as proof of a possible failure.

Thoughts are like clouds moving in the sky, you know? Before you know it, they change shape or they just aren’t there anymore.

Esa tendencia que tenemos las hijas a ver en los errores de nuestras madres el origen de todos nuestros problemas, y esa tendencia que tienen las madres a considerar nuestros defectos como la prueba de un posible fracaso.

Existe una palabra para designar a aquel que pierde a su cónyuge, y también una palabra para los hijos que se quedan sin padres. Sin embargo no existe una para los padres que pierden a sus hijos. A diferencia de otros siglos en que la mortandad infantil era muy alta, lo natural en nuestra época es que eso no suceda. Es algo tan temido, tan inaceptable, que hemos decidido no nombrarlo”.

Being a mother means being worried about someone else all the time.

He shouts so loudly and so desperately that it forces me to leave the house in a hurry. I have to admit, I have never really got along well with children. If they approach me, I dodge out of the way, and if interacting with them is unavoidable, I don’t have the slightest idea of how to do so. I count myself amongst those people who, when they hear a baby crying on a plane or in a doctor’s waiting room, tense up completely, and are driven mad if the sound goes on for longer than ten minutes.

Ninguna mujer que vuelve a casa después de parir a su primer hijo retoma su vida anterior, mucho

Yo pienso que llega un punto en que todas las madres nos damos cuenta de esto: tenemos a los hijos que tenemos, no a los que imaginábamos o a los que nos hubiera gustado tener, y es con ellos con quienes nos toca lidiar.

Mientras esto sucedía, yo no dejaba de recordar los versos de Jetsun Milarepa acerca de la actitud de los seres humanos: “tratando de ser felices se tiran de cabeza hacia su propio sufrimiento”.

Cuando uno es joven resulta fácil tener ideales y vivir conforme a ellos. Lo complicado es mantener la coherencia a lo largo del tiempo y a pesar de los retos que nos impone la vida”.

Durante años traté de convencer a mis amigas de que reproducirse constituía un error irreparable. Les decía que un hijo, por tierno y dulce que fuera en sus buenos momentos, siempre representaría un límite a su libertad, un peso económico, para no hablar del desgaste físico y emocional que ocasionan: nueve meses de embarazo, otros seis o más de lactancia, desveladas frecuentes durante la niñez, y luego una angustia constante a lo largo de su adolescencia. “Además, la sociedad está diseñada para que seamos nosotras, y no los hombres, quienes se encarguen de cuidar a los hijos, y eso implica muchas veces sacrificar la carrera, las actividades solitarias, el erotismo y en ocasiones la pareja”.

Quando se é jovem, é fácil ter ideais e viver de acordo com eles. A parte complicada é manter a coerência ao longo do tempo e apesar dos desafios que a vida nos impõe.

If the girl wasn’t registered (and this was the case as she wasn’t yet born), only Alina’s family had the right to take responsibility for her. When my friends told me this I was surprised. I said to myself that surnames and parental rights are courtesies we pay to men once they acknowledge their children, almost like a dowry. The truth is that in our society it is optional for children to be allotted fathers, whereas mothers have no choice in the matter.

A mí me intrigan más las aves a las que parasitan. Según yo, saben que no son sus crías y aun así las cuidan y las atienden. Yo pienso que llega un punto en que todas las madres nos damos cuenta de esto: tenemos a los hijos que tenemos, no a los que imaginábamos o a los que nos hubiera gustado tener, y es con ellos con quienes nos toca lidiar.