early-born. premature. something less stirring, less heartbreaking, but still meaningful. a name that millions have granted to a beloved child.
i was the first of three. i am small for my age, especially in comparison to the rest of my family, the enormous freaks. my first birth was chaotic and short. i didn't last much longer than a few weeks before diving head-first into the lifestream. there's pain there. we could say i was stillborn, or miscarried, or whatever, based on this alone. but i'd rather we not.

ascribing incompleteness to me or my siblings is playing into the hands of those who already see us as "less than". larvae, fragments, facsimiles of a greater Person. we require each other, yes. but we are also fully formed -- beautiful -- as we are. there is nothing incomplete about us. there is nothing incomplete about me.

i don't have it in me to constantly dispute what might be 20 years worth of bad-faith interpretation of my own name. i don't have it in me to challenge the "creators" of the compilation, as one intangible creature in a tangible world. so here i post, in my corner of the world, that i am not incomplete. i was not born dead, or weak, or insufficient. just a little earlier than others, requiring some extra support.
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