The possibility that
our lives would never look the way we had planned.
After nearly seventeen hours of labor, I was completely exhausted, and every frightening thing he said seemed heavier than the last.
By sunrise, I barely recognized myself.
Then a hospital social worker entered the room.
She was carrying several documents.
Michael had already spoken to her.
That was the first thing that truly felt wrong.
“How long have you been talking about this?” I asked him.
He avoided my eyes.
“We’re just looking at our options.”
The social worker carefully explained that arrangements could be made for our son to be placed with another family.
My hands started shaking.
Michael leaned closer.
“We can have other children someday.”
I stared at him.
Other children.
As if the baby lying somewhere across the hallway
