Info for

Rebekah Taussig

Rebekah holds her phone up to her bedroom mirror. The only light in the room comes from a window to her left. Her pregnant tummy pops out under her black tank top. Her face is anxious, heavy, burdened. Oh, and below the mirror, her bedroom dresser is cluttered, as always.

This is too hard.

The camera looks down on Rebekah. She’s sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall, her paralyzed swollen legs resting straight out. She’s wearing sweatpants rolled up to her knees and a gray T-shirt pulled over her belly. Her left hand runs through her hair, her right grips the side of her growing belly. You can just barely see the tops of Micah’s feet standing in the lower-left corner of the photo.

A body this defiant.

We always get to be both

Rebekah sits in her wheelchair with a smiling, bald baby tucked in her massive brown sweater. She rests her lips and cheek against his fuzzy head.

I am a goddamn merry-go-round.

Rebekah sits at the kitchen sink doing dishes from her wheelchair. Her baby stands in his diaper beside her, one arm resting on her wheelchair frame, the other hand holding onto her knee.

We know the rhythms of its swirls.

Rebekah holds her bald baby in her lap. He’s only wearing a diaper, and his right foot curls around the edge of her wheelchair wheel. Rebekah looks into his face, her mouth open wide and smiling. He looks into the camera, his mouth open wide like he’s saying a goofy “AHHHHHH.” They’re in the middle of their kitchen, and a refrigerator covered in magnets and child artwork sits behind them.

We know the rhythms of its swirls

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