My Mini-Hims

Images of a baby Brooke and Albert.

I have a daughter and a son.
I'd like to believe that my husband and I created mini-mes. That somewhere in there—between all the laboring and nursing and rearing—my genes made a grand appearance. But the reality?

They’re just mini-hims.

Same face. Same heads. Same crooked smile when they think they’re being slick. I may have gotten a dimple or two out of the deal, but that’s it. Sometimes, I joke that I was just the carrier. But if I’m being honest, there’s a deeper thing there. A quiet little fight to be seen—not just as the one who carried them—but as someone they reflect. Someone they become, even in small ways.

They’re still developing.
The verdict is still out.
And I’m still fighting—to see myself in them, and maybe, to see myself more clearly, too.