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I'm pregnant again, and I really want to be what everyone wants me to be: more considerate, tolerant, reliable, and have a good temper beyond imagination, but I also want to be understood, valued, and forgiven. Thinking of this, I was filled with resentment. When the baby's knee hit my ribs, I scolded her through my belly. How did my mother feel when she was pregnant with me? At the age of twenty-one, I lost my mother. Her life passed by my eyes little by little. Death crushed me. I was shattered to pieces and turned into a ruin. For the rest of my life, I have been picking up the pieces and rebuilding myself on the ruins. Tears reminded me once again that my body is no longer under my control, I am powerless, I am at a loss, and I will have to face it all soon...
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