Genetics Part 3: A stranger

I can’t see it.

You can’t see it.

It’s as if it isn’t there.

For 26 years it wasn’t there. For 30 years it wasn’t there.

I am not deaf. I am not hard of hearing. Neither is Shaun. Neither are any of our parents or siblings.

But there it is. On paper. We made our kids deaf. We made deaf kids. With our deaf genes. Our stupid deaf genes.

That you can’t see. That aren’t there. That weren’t there. That are there.

 

I don’t know who I am.

 

This whole time, this whole life. I have been trying to figure out who I am. I thought I was getting there but I was wrong. I have no freaking idea who I am. Because this whole time I was deaf. Not actively but secretly. Silently.

I don’t know who I am and I don’t know who he is and I don’t know how it came to this.

Where did they come from? These genes?

These genes that were always there?

Why did my stupid uterus pick those. There were other genes, other, non deaf genes it could have picked. It could have used those to build my babies. My precious babies. The freaking majority of my genes are not deaf. Why did it pick those ones? Twice?

My body could have picked different genes. The good ones. I could have had my planned four children and never known. Never really known myself.

 

Never known who I am.

 

Makes you wonder.

 

Do we ever really know who we are?

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