Prologue: January 11, 2017

When I discovered that I was pregnant in April of 2016 and then my doctor confirmed a November due date I got excited. I would be bringing a child into the world on or around the presidential election. At that point the candidate field was still quite full and the nominees for both parties had not yet been fully set–conventions were still months away–but I felt a surge of excitement. I was fairly confident that Hillary Clinton was going to ultimately end up the next POTUS and the excitement I felt about having a baby in the shadow of electing the first female President of the United States was massive. I hadn’t felt this kind electric hope since Barack Obama was elected to his first term in 2008. If you haven’t guessed by now, I tend to run liberal and while I am an issues voted who has voted Republican in the past, I’m a registered Democrat and a social progressive. Madame President? Hill yes.

But 2016 proved to be a year that would not be ordinary. My confident November delivery of a healthy son turned into a sudden October delivery of a still-healthy little boy who would have to spend two weeks in the NICU. My belief that we would be electing a female president turned into a sick, heavy realization that we had elected a sketchy businessman with predatory tendencies and a strained relationship with truth. It only got worse as the results rolled in: my country had not betrayed itself. It had voted for Hillary Clinton, but just the right pockets of people hurting and struggling voted for Trump. And in the days that followed, as reports started breaking about Russian interference with our election and Trump started nominating white supremacists and other questionable people to his cabinet that sick and heavy realization turned to anger. We’d been conned, manipulated, and now were at the mercy of a man who thinks that no means yes and making business deals with foreign governments isn’t a conflict of interest.

Today, for the first time since July, Trump held a press conference. I was enraged, disturbed, and desperately wanted to turn off the television and look away. But as I listened to this so-called leader mansplain and lie his way through not answering questions, I realized that I can’t look away. I won’t look away. I refuse to let my country go down without a fight. My son deserves a better world than the one he stands to inherit if Trump rules unchecked. But I’m just one person. I’m not a politician, I hold no power except the power of my pen. For the next four years I will be writing a daily note about what’s going in on Trump’s America. There will be fact-checking, calling out, and, should it be warranted, credit given when credit is due.

Eight days left before the end of the world as we knew it and the start of…God only knows what.


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