A flicker on the screen of the heartbeat, the first glimpse of my baby, I cry at the possibility of new life // An empty ultrasound, no heartbeat, a young mom cries; discovery of death amidst life.
I am a first-generation Chinese American. And, amidst the tapestry of threads that form my identity (mother, wife, daughter, woman, doctor), it is the piece I have often prized the least.
I have a child, two months old / Who needs me, more than you need me. / I hear you crying, but it is her crying.