I had a fantasy of how it would go. I would wake up early in the morning, and it would start. I would walk to Alexis’s room and tell her, calmly, that it was time. She’d be frantic, but I’d be okay. I was supposed to stay home until I was further along. I would call my doula. She’d have plenty of time. She might meet us at the hospital, or maybe we’d still be at home. I would be strong. I wouldn’t panic. I wouldn’t need any drugs. I’d deliver you standing up, or maybe on my knees. You would have been perfect.
You were perfect. It was everything else that went wrong.
I miss you so much.
* Names have been changed to protect privacy.