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Show in womanly and beautiful in my husband's absence. It made me feel at once sad and g r a t e f u l to be cared for by a n e a r - s t r a n g e r. Did my father do those things - take s p e c i a l care to explain to his daughters why t h e i r b r e a s t s changed, why they must rub a lubricant across the p e l v i s to prevent s t r e t c h marks? Did he examine them monthly, or examine them even once before the final date? Did he t r e a t t h e i r pregnancies as he had t r e a t ed my broken arm? I could not imagine him as my doctor. He was my father. I could not imagine him d e l i v e r i n g my baby. I believed i t was my f a i l u r e , my f e a r . There was not enough l i g h t, enough purity within me t o endure h i s caring for me. I remember when I was a c h i l d I had t o l d him, caressing his cheek with a pudgy f i n g e r ; that I would marry him when I grew up. "I want to have a c h i l d j u s t l i k e me," I had said, and he threw back h i s head, laughing u n t i l the windows r a t t l e d. He had not explained t h a t I would never be able to marry him. And I had grown up f e e l i n g t h a t I would never leave h i s household, believing t h a t I was e t e r n a l l y bonded to him and to my mothers and to the other c h i l d r e n . The f e e l i n g had l a s t e d u n t i l the rape, and had somehow survived, i f only through r e a c t i o n and the sense of l o s s , i n t o the era of my pregnancy. He was our father - f a t h e r of us a l l , and so, husband of us a l l . The confusion had l a s t e d for y e a r s . Even now I struck comparisons between him and Brian. Some of the s i m i l a r i t i e s p l e a s e d me. Others did not. Now, as I w r i t e , I have a l i t t l e more understanding of the confusion. In most monogamous marriages, both members have a p r e t t y f a i r chance of developing an i n d i v i d u a l i d e n t i t y, more or l e s s dependent upon the other party, but e x i s t i n g as |