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Viable (A Letter Confessing My Own Lack Of Faith To My Newborn Son), Julie Hensley

Julie Hensley

Last January, in the minute and a half it took the ultrasound technician to pronounce that word, hours after I stood up from the sofa and felt the blood rush warm out of me, I thought about the moments when knowledge of your life was mine alone, when I had sat, heart-pounding, holding the confirmation of your presence inside me, frozen, unable or unwilling, to rise and begin the inevitable process of sharing you.