I came home from the hospital, our newborn baby swaddled in my arms, and found the locks changed. My husband, Raymond, told me to leave. Twenty hours later, he came back, banging on the door, shouting it was “life or death.” And even then, I didn’t know the real shock was still coming.
I had waited so long to become a mother. Not in a dramatic, movie-style way—no big declarations or public announcements. Just quietly, year after year, watching friends and family celebrate pregnancies while I smiled and told myself, one day.
Raymond and I would talk about it late at night, voices low, like speaking too loudly might scare the dream away.
When it finally happened, when I finally became pregnant, I was terrified and ecstatic all at once.
Pregnancy wasn’t easy. My body ached, my back burned, and my feet swelled like balloons. I was tired constantly, moving through a haze of exhaustion and anticipation.
