Atlas shrugged

You, born of sin. You unwanted child. The child with an impossible father. The child with an otherworldly mother. Child, you are wanted. Your mother does love you and mother does love the conception of you- but not the actual conception of you. She likes to sit by herself and imagine you. She pictures your face and your smile and you in your father's arms. She imagines one happy family. Your mother is full of dreams. And you'll never be anything more to her than just that. I'm sorry, little one; I wish I had some consolation for you. All I have for you is this: everything happens for a reason, little one. Even death. Just know this: your mother loves you. And your father may resent your existence, but he would never deny you his love. He would never deprive you of his lavish attention. Your father has wanted you for a long time. But your mother, she is a dreamer. Your mother, she is a pacifist. Your mother will deny you your right to a warm and loving life. Your mother- well, don't misunderstand, little one; she loves you, but she loves herself more.