fromwww.theguardian.com
1 day agoI watched the bombs fall. I watched the mothers': how do we grieve the children of Gaza?
I'd spent a year getting pregnant, then unpregnant. I'd wake in the middle of the night and remember: heartbeat, heartbeat. At times, I felt absurd for my grief. I couldn't ascertain what the metric of a mother was, what goalpost had to be met. Had I met it? Surely grief like this love like this had to be more deeply earned?
Mental health