My parents walked into my hospital recovery room, looked at my newborn son, and sneered, \u201cWe will never acknowledge a fatherless child.\u201d My father added, \u201cAnd we will never hold that baby.\u201d They demanded I sign away my 12% share of the family company before I left the hospital. I kissed my son, smiled, and waited\u2026 because his father\u2014the one who could destroy everything they owned\u2014was already walking toward my door.<\/p>\n
The nurse had barely settled my newborn son into my arms when my mother looked down at him with open contempt.<\/p>\n
Kirk had been in the world for less than an hour.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
His face was still pink from birth, his dark little lashes resting against his cheeks as he shifted beneath the hospital blanket.<\/p>\n
His tiny fingers opened and closed against my gown as if he were searching for something familiar in a world he had only just entered.<\/p>\n
My mother saw none of that.<\/p>\n
She looked at him as though he were evidence.<\/p>\n
Not a grandson.<\/p>\n
Not a baby.<\/p>\n
Evidence that I had embarrassed her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe will never acknowledge a fatherless child,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
The words landed harder than I expected, even though I had spent months preparing myself for exactly this kind of cruelty.<\/p>\n
My father stood near the foot of my recovery bed with his arms folded across his chest.<\/p>\n
He did not look at Kirk for long.<\/p>\n
His attention kept drifting toward me instead, the same measured look he used during tense meetings at the family company.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd don\u2019t expect us to ever hold that baby,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n
Kirk stirred against me.<\/p>\n
His hand brushed mine, then wrapped around one of my fingers with surprising strength.<\/p>\n
I looked down at him and kissed his forehead.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother blinked.<\/p>\n
For the first time since she entered the room, she seemed uncertain.<\/p>\n
They had prepared for a different version of me.<\/p>\n
They expected the exhausted daughter who had just given birth to break beneath the weight of their rejection.<\/p>\n
They expected tears.<\/p>\n
They expected me to ask what I could do to repair the family\u2019s reputation.<\/p>\n
They expected me to promise that I would make things right.<\/p>\n
Most of all, they expected fear.<\/p>\n
For months, they had convinced themselves that Kirk\u2019s father had disappeared.<\/p>\n
I had never corrected them.<\/p>\n
They saw my silence and filled it with the explanation that suited them best.<\/p>\n
To them, I was a woman facing motherhood alone, staring at hospital bills, sleepless nights, and the financial pressure of raising a child without help.<\/p>\n
Sooner or later, they believed, I would need them badly enough to surrender whatever they asked for.<\/p>\n
And there was one thing they had wanted from me for years.<\/p>\n
My 12% ownership in the family company.<\/p>\n
That percentage had always irritated my father more than he admitted.<\/p>\n
Twelve percent was not enough for me to run the company by myself, but it was enough to matter.<\/p>\n
It gave me a voice they could not simply pretend did not exist.<\/p>\n
It meant there were decisions where my approval mattered, conversations where I could not be casually erased, and family plans that became more complicated when I refused to cooperate.<\/p>\n
My parents wanted those shares transferred to my brother.<\/p>\n
They had wanted it before my pregnancy.<\/p>\n
Now they thought my son had finally given them the leverage they needed.<\/p>\n
My mother reached into her handbag.<\/p>\n
The leather snapped softly as she pulled out a thick folder.<\/p>\n
She placed it directly on the blanket covering my legs.<\/p>\n
The weight of it made Kirk shift slightly in my arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cSign these papers,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Her voice had changed.<\/p>\n
The disgust was still there, but now there was something colder underneath it.<\/p>\n
Purpose.<\/p>\n
\u201cTransfer your shares to your brother. After the embarrassment you\u2019ve brought on this family, you\u2019re no longer fit to represent us.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the folder.<\/p>\n
They had not come unprepared.<\/p>\n
This had not been an emotional visit that spiraled into an argument.<\/p>\n
They had walked into my hospital room planning to leave with my signature.<\/p>\n
My mother glanced at Kirk again.<\/p>\n
Her mouth tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cRefuse, and you can raise that child completely on your own.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the moment everything became clear.<\/p>\n
They had not come to meet their grandson.<\/p>\n
They had come because they believed I was vulnerable.<\/p>\n
I had just given birth.<\/p>\n
I was exhausted.<\/p>\n
Medication still dulled the edges of the room, and every movement reminded me what my body had just endured.<\/p>\n
I could not simply stand up, collect my things, and walk away from them.<\/p>\n
They knew that.<\/p>\n
That was why the folder was resting on my hospital blanket instead of waiting on a conference-room table.<\/p>\n
They thought weakness had finally made me useful.<\/p>\n
I looked from my mother to my father.<\/p>\n
These were the people who had raised me.<\/p>\n
They had known me my entire life, yet somehow they believed the sight of their rejection would frighten me more than the idea of surrendering something that belonged to me.<\/p>\n
Their biggest mistake was not the folder.<\/p>\n
It was not the threat.<\/p>\n
It was not even the way they spoke about Kirk.<\/p>\n
Their biggest mistake was assuming they knew everything.<\/p>\n
They had never asked who his father was.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should leave,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
My mother gave a short laugh.<\/p>\n
It held no humor.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re hardly in a position to tell us what to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father stepped closer to the bed.<\/p>\n
He leaned down just far enough to tap the folder with one finger.<\/p>\n
\u201cSign it,\u201d he said. \u201cYour brother can protect the company from the damage you\u2019ve caused.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at that finger for a second.<\/p>\n
The gesture was so familiar.<\/p>\n
He had used it across tables for years whenever he wanted a discussion to become an order.<\/p>\n
A contract.<\/p>\n
A budget.<\/p>\n
A decision he expected everyone else to accept.<\/p>\n
Tap.<\/p>\n
Done.<\/p>\n
Except this time his finger was inches away from my newborn son.<\/p>\n
I tightened my arm around Kirk, careful not to wake him.<\/p>\n
Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.<\/p>\n
Measured.<\/p>\n
Unhurried.<\/p>\n
Coming closer.<\/p>\n
My heart began beating differently\u2014not from fear, but from recognition.<\/p>\n
I knew that walk.<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
My mother noticed immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat exactly do you find amusing?\u201d she demanded.<\/p>\n
I did not answer.<\/p>\n
The footsteps stopped outside my room.<\/p>\n
Then the door opened.<\/p>\n
A tall man in a dark overcoat stepped inside.<\/p>\n
The hospital administrator followed behind him.<\/p>\n
Two attorneys came in as well, each carrying a slim leather portfolio.<\/p>\n
My father turned toward the doorway.<\/p>\n
The transformation was instant.<\/p>\n
His shoulders, which had been rigid with certainty only seconds earlier, shifted.<\/p>\n
My mother\u2019s hand froze above the documents.<\/p>\n
For one moment, neither of them spoke.<\/p>\n
Then my mother whispered the name.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlistair\u2026 Alistair Sanders\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
She knew exactly who he was.<\/p>\n
So did my father.<\/p>\n
Alistair Sanders was not a man they could dismiss, intimidate, or treat like someone desperate for their approval.<\/p>\n
My parents had spent decades protecting everything they had built.<\/p>\n
They understood influence.<\/p>\n
They understood money.<\/p>\n
And they understood immediately that the man walking calmly toward my hospital bed had enough of both to make their earlier confidence suddenly look reckless.<\/p>\n
But Alistair barely acknowledged their reaction.<\/p>\n
He walked past them and came directly to me.<\/p>\n
His face softened when his eyes found mine.<\/p>\n
He leaned down and kissed my forehead.<\/p>\n
The gesture was quiet.<\/p>\n
Ordinary.<\/p>\n
That was what made it powerful.<\/p>\n
There was no performance in it.<\/p>\n
No announcement.<\/p>\n
No attempt to prove anything to my parents.<\/p>\n
He was simply where he intended to be.<\/p>\n
Then he looked at Kirk.<\/p>\n
Something in his expression changed again.<\/p>\n
The hard focus he carried into the room disappeared as he reached one finger toward our son\u2019s tiny hand.<\/p>\n
Kirk opened his fist.<\/p>\n
His fingers wrapped around Alistair\u2019s finger the same way they had wrapped around mine.<\/p>\n
Alistair smiled.<\/p>\n
I watched him stand beside the bed, one hand still held gently inside our son\u2019s grip, and I realized my parents were seeing the answer to the question they had never bothered asking.<\/p>\n
Kirk had never been abandoned.<\/p>\n
I had never been waiting for some absent man to return.<\/p>\n
My silence had not been shame.<\/p>\n
It had been privacy.<\/p>\n
There was a difference, and my parents were finally being forced to understand it.<\/p>\n
Alistair turned toward them.<\/p>\n
His voice was calm.<\/p>\n
Almost gentle.<\/p>\n
That frightened them more than shouting would have.<\/p>\n
\u201cI couldn\u2019t help overhearing your conversation.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes moved toward the documents on my blanket.<\/p>\n
Then he looked directly at my mother.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid I hear correctly\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
He paused.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026or did you just call my son fatherless?\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother recovered first.<\/p>\n
She had always been good at recovering when appearances mattered.<\/p>\n
Her hand dropped away from the folder.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere has obviously been a misunderstanding.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alistair looked at me instead of answering her.<\/p>\n
That small choice mattered.<\/p>\n
He was not asking them what had happened.<\/p>\n
He was asking me whether I wanted to speak.<\/p>\n
I shifted Kirk higher against my chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo misunderstanding,\u201d I said. \u201cThey came here to make me transfer my 12% share to my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father\u2019s jaw tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is a private family matter.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alistair\u2019s gaze moved to him.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo was the birth of my son.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father opened his mouth, then stopped.<\/p>\n
My mother tried another approach.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe were concerned about her future. She has responsibilities now. The company requires stability.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words sounded almost reasonable when stripped of everything she had said minutes earlier.<\/p>\n
That was her talent.<\/p>\n
She could take a threat and dress it in concern before anyone outside the family heard it.<\/p>\n
But this time the folder was still sitting where she had dropped it.<\/p>\n
The timing spoke for itself.<\/p>\n
Alistair did not touch the documents.<\/p>\n
Neither did the attorneys.<\/p>\n
He simply asked me, \u201cDid you request these papers?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you ask to transfer your shares?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you want to sign anything today?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at my father.<\/p>\n
He had spent years teaching me that business decisions should never be made under pressure.<\/p>\n
Apparently that rule had limits when the pressure benefited him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Alistair nodded once.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen nothing gets signed.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother\u2019s expression hardened.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t understand our company.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t need to,\u201d he replied. \u201cShe said no.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was such a simple sentence that for a moment the entire conflict seemed smaller than my parents had tried to make it.<\/p>\n
They had built their demand out of reputation, family loyalty, money, and fear.<\/p>\n
Alistair reduced it to the one fact they had been refusing to respect.<\/p>\n
The shares were mine.<\/p>\n
The decision was mine.<\/p>\n
My father looked toward the attorneys.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis has nothing to do with them.\u201d<\/p>\n
One of the attorneys remained beside the doorway while the other kept the portfolio closed.<\/p>\n
Neither interrupted.<\/p>\n
Alistair had not brought them there to put on a show for my parents.<\/p>\n
Their presence simply made it clear that he had arrived prepared to protect boundaries, not argue about whether I deserved them.<\/p>\n
I looked down at Kirk.<\/p>\n
He slept through all of it.<\/p>\n
His hand had loosened around Alistair\u2019s finger, but Alistair had not moved away.<\/p>\n
That tiny point of contact suddenly meant more to me than the folder on my legs.<\/p>\n
My parents had treated Kirk like leverage.<\/p>\n
Alistair treated him like a son.<\/p>\n
My mother noticed where I was looking.<\/p>\n
Her voice softened abruptly.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe did not know.\u201d<\/p>\n
There it was.<\/p>\n
Not an apology.<\/p>\n
An explanation.<\/p>\n
As though their cruelty had only been unacceptable because they had miscalculated the identity of the baby\u2019s father.<\/p>\n
I raised my eyes to hers.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t know because you never asked.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pressed her lips together.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe were trying to protect the family.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom Kirk?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
She did not answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Still nothing.<\/p>\n
My father finally reached for the folder.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think this conversation has gone far enough.\u201d<\/p>\n
I placed my free hand on top of it before he could lift it.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stared at my hand.<\/p>\n
For years, I had learned to anticipate his disapproval before I made decisions.<\/p>\n
That habit had followed me into adulthood, into the company, and into every room where he expected his opinion to outrank mine.<\/p>\n
But I was lying in a hospital bed with my son against my heart, and something about the absurdity of that folder finally broke the habit.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou brought those papers into my recovery room,\u201d I said. \u201cYou threatened me while I was holding my newborn. So you don\u2019t get to decide when the conversation is over.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father\u2019s face tightened.<\/p>\n
Alistair said nothing.<\/p>\n
He did not rescue me from the sentence.<\/p>\n
He let it remain mine.<\/p>\n
That mattered too.<\/p>\n
I turned to my mother.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf Kirk\u2019s father had been a teacher, a mechanic, unemployed, gone, dead, or someone you had never heard of, would what you said to me have been acceptable?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes flickered toward Alistair.<\/p>\n
That was answer enough.<\/p>\n
The issue had never really been whether Kirk had a father.<\/p>\n
The issue was whether his father carried enough status to make their contempt inconvenient.<\/p>\n
My mother sat down in the visitor chair as though standing had suddenly become difficult.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe were angry,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were prepared,\u201d I replied.<\/p>\n
I tapped the folder once.<\/p>\n
Just as my father had done.<\/p>\n
Only this time the gesture did not end a conversation.<\/p>\n
It clarified one.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou had documents ready before you came here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Neither of them denied it.<\/p>\n
The hospital administrator quietly excused himself once it was clear there was no immediate issue requiring his presence.<\/p>\n
The attorneys remained near the doorway, still silent.<\/p>\n
I appreciated the silence more than I expected.<\/p>\n
No one needed to transform this into a spectacle.<\/p>\n
I did not want my parents humiliated for entertainment.<\/p>\n
I wanted them to stop believing humiliation was a tool they could use on me.<\/p>\n
My father looked at Alistair.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf this relationship is serious, then perhaps we should discuss matters rationally.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n
Relationship.<\/p>\n
He said the word as though Alistair had become relevant only after passing some invisible financial threshold.<\/p>\n
Alistair\u2019s eyes narrowed slightly.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s nothing about her ownership stake for me to discuss with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father seemed genuinely surprised.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have substantial interests of your own.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cExactly.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alistair looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe doesn\u2019t need me taking hers.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room went quiet, but not theatrically.<\/p>\n
There was simply nowhere comfortable for my father to move the conversation after that.<\/p>\n
He had expected another powerful man to treat my shares as something to negotiate over my head.<\/p>\n
Instead, Alistair had made the opposite point.<\/p>\n
My ownership remained mine precisely because our relationship was not supposed to erase me.<\/p>\n
My mother looked toward Kirk again.<\/p>\n
This time her expression was different.<\/p>\n
Not warm.<\/p>\n
Not yet.<\/p>\n
But calculating less.<\/p>\n
She seemed to understand that every choice she made from this moment forward would reveal whether she regretted hurting us or merely regretted who had witnessed it.<\/p>\n
She stood slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cMay I see him?\u201d<\/p>\n
My arms tightened around Kirk before I could stop myself.<\/p>\n
The request came too quickly.<\/p>\n
Less than half an hour earlier, she had said she would never acknowledge him.<\/p>\n
Now she wanted to lean closer because the man standing beside my bed had changed the social cost of rejecting him.<\/p>\n
I shook my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot today.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her expression flashed with hurt.<\/p>\n
For once, I did not rush to relieve it.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said you would never hold him,\u201d I reminded her. \u201cI\u2019m not going to pretend those words disappeared because you learned something you should have asked before saying them.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked as though she wanted to argue.<\/p>\n
Instead, she picked up her handbag.<\/p>\n
My father took the folder from the bed.<\/p>\n
I stopped him again.<\/p>\n
\u201cLeave it.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyebrows rose.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want a record of what you brought here.\u201d<\/p>\n
That finally produced something close to caution in his face.<\/p>\n
He released the folder.<\/p>\n
I did not need revenge.<\/p>\n
I did not need threats.<\/p>\n
I simply did not want the morning rewritten later into a concerned family visit that had somehow become a misunderstanding.<\/p>\n
The folder remained on the blanket between us, no longer a weapon they controlled but evidence of a decision I had refused.<\/p>\n
My parents walked toward the door.<\/p>\n
My mother paused once and looked back at Kirk.<\/p>\n
This time she did not speak.<\/p>\n
Neither did I.<\/p>\n
After they left, the room felt larger.<\/p>\n
Alistair moved the folder from my legs to the small table beside the bed.<\/p>\n
Then he pulled the visitor chair closer and sat beside me.<\/p>\n
For the first time since my parents arrived, nobody wanted anything from me.<\/p>\n
No signature.<\/p>\n
No explanation.<\/p>\n
No apology.<\/p>\n
He just sat there with one hand resting near mine while Kirk slept between us.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou okay?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.<\/p>\n
\u201cI will be.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
He knew better than to tell me what I should feel.<\/p>\n
What hurt most was not that my parents had misjudged Alistair.<\/p>\n
It was that they had revealed what they thought I was worth when they believed nobody powerful was standing behind me.<\/p>\n
That truth could not be undone by learning his name.<\/p>\n
Over the days that followed, I did not sign away my 12%.<\/p>\n
I also refused to let my parents turn the incident into a debate about whether Alistair\u2019s presence had somehow made me respectable again.<\/p>\n
My son had been worthy of kindness before anyone knew who his father was.<\/p>\n
So had I.<\/p>\n
There was no dramatic instant when everything in the family company collapsed, because that was never what I wanted.<\/p>\n
I did not need Alistair to destroy my parents\u2019 business to prove he could.<\/p>\n
The knowledge that he could have applied enormous pressure mattered far less than the choice he actually made.<\/p>\n
He did not take over my fight.<\/p>\n
He stood beside me while I kept what was mine.<\/p>\n
That distinction changed something in me.<\/p>\n
For years, I had associated power with whoever could dominate the room.<\/p>\n
My father had taught me that version.<\/p>\n
That morning, Alistair showed me another one.<\/p>\n
Power could also mean having the ability to intervene and still leaving another person\u2019s voice intact.<\/p>\n
My parents eventually asked about seeing Kirk again.<\/p>\n
I did not answer immediately.<\/p>\n
Access to my son was no longer going to be granted because someone held a family title.<\/p>\n
It would depend on behavior.<\/p>\n
Respect could not arrive only after money did.<\/p>\n
An apology could not mean, \u201cWe are sorry because the father turned out to be important.\u201d<\/p>\n
If there was ever going to be a relationship, it had to begin with acknowledging what had actually happened in that hospital room.<\/p>\n
The folder remained with my records.<\/p>\n
I never signed it.<\/p>\n
Months later, I came across it while searching for one of Kirk\u2019s hospital documents.<\/p>\n
The paper looked strangely ordinary.<\/p>\n
That surprised me.<\/p>\n
On the day my mother dropped it onto my hospital blanket, it had seemed heavy enough to hold years of family pressure inside it.<\/p>\n
Now it was just paper.<\/p>\n
I closed the folder and placed it beneath Kirk\u2019s birth records.<\/p>\n
Then I heard him making sleepy noises from the next room.<\/p>\n
Alistair was already there, trying to fasten the snaps on our son\u2019s pajamas while Kirk kicked both feet and made the task nearly impossible.<\/p>\n
I stood in the doorway for a second and watched them.<\/p>\n
No boardroom.<\/p>\n
No threats.<\/p>\n
No one discussing percentages.<\/p>\n
Just a tired father trying to dress his baby while the baby refused to cooperate.<\/p>\n
Alistair looked up at me and smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cHelp?\u201d<\/p>\n
I walked over and took one of Kirk\u2019s tiny feet in my hand.<\/p>\n
The same child my parents had called fatherless now had both of us leaning over him, laughing quietly as we tried to get him ready for bed.<\/p>\n
And the folder that was supposed to take away my place in the family company stayed closed in another room, unsigned.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My parents walked into my hospital recovery room, looked at my newborn son, and sneered, \u201cWe will never acknowledge a fatherless child.\u201d My father added, \u201cAnd we will never hold … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":18247,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,15,13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18616","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18616","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=18616"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18616\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18617,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18616\/revisions\/18617"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/18247"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=18616"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=18616"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=18616"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}