It just teaches you how to function while carrying it.
My mother, Helen, spent my entire life treating my birth like a theft.
She had been twenty when she got pregnant with me and was supposed to start law school that fall.
According to her version of history, I was not a child.
I was the event that derailed her destiny.
My father, George, came from a family obsessed with appearances.
He hated that they had to marry young, hated the whispers, hated how ordinary and messy life became.
He never said he wished I hadn’t been born, not in so many words, but he said enough adjacent things that the message landed all the same.
Then Clara came along.
Planned.
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