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Afterward, Kaity went home and scrubbed off the words she had written in my living room, leaving behind the ones that were meant to stay- those phrases and symbols that have become the foundation of her hope. Ones like the one poignantly inscribed on the inside of her forearm: 

"But later you will understand."



“In ten years, I have spent hundreds of days in the hospital, been diagnosed with a handful of chronic conditions, and had an entire realignment of my identity. Surgeries and life-saving interventions have turned my body into something I hardly recognize...but hope has always been an important aspect of my survival.” 



"I had heard of being so wounded that one felt naked, but until that day, I didn't quite understand. I felt like the world knew I failed at motherhood." 

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