In 2022, the year my baby died from labor complications, I thought I would never laugh again. That was fine by me. I didn’t want to live in a world where it was possible to laugh after losing your baby. Article continues after advertisement I did laugh again, of course. Precisely one day after she died. I was at home, slouched on the sofa under a thick veil of grief. My sister was showing me a video of a presentation she’d put on for work, but in the video she was not talking the way she normally talks. She was using a different voice. A stiff, corporate voice I’d never heard come out of her mouth before. It was bizarre and hilarious. I couldn’t stop laughing. The laughter was a relief as much as it was a betrayal. Grieving and laughing may be a contradiction. But so is grieving and living and yet we all do it. As disturbing as it was, I wasn’t surprised. I am naturally a person who bends towards ease and lightness. I wear a lot of pink. I dance alone in my kitchen to perky pop songs.…