Not even on the worst day, which was coming.

I have been asked, since, what it is like — to carry a child that is not going to be yours, to grow a person for nine months knowing you will hand them to someone else at the end.

People ask it delicately, as though it must be a wound, as though there must be some terrible ache of relinquishment waiting at the finish.

And I understand why they imagine that, but it was not my experience at all, and I think the reason is worth saying, because it is connected to everything else in this story.