Lupus

Mom, I don't want to have kids.
The fact, the idea, of being told that I could die,
Just by being pregnant, or giving birth, like you almost did?
I - I just can't.
Why did you have to tell me?
Why would you think to tell me this?
Who are you? Who are you tell me such a terrible thing?
A common cold could kill me.
I could get pneumonia like you,
Almost every year.
Yes, because this makes me want to have kids, Mom.
I could cough blood on a daily basis,
I could have a heart attack when I'm 30.
Stress could kill me. Could weaken me.
Like it does you. But how do you do it?
You still live on.
You still face everyday no matter how grim or stressful,
Knowing that it could be your last if it need be.
Are you ready to die, Mom?
Are you ready to leave me? And Brady? And your husband?
How can you say you are?
I just don't understand. I'm more worried than you.
I want to have kids, my own kid. Like you did.
But I don't want to find out that I am like you.
That I could die...like you.