Samantha was trying to trap me.

We had struggled for years to have children and never managed it.

The pregnancy was too convenient, arriving right on the heels of the divorce papers.

And that word — convenient — tore the scab off something that had never healed underneath.

Because convenient was the word that revealed how my mother’s mind had actually worked the whole time.

To her, Samantha’s pregnancy three weeks after our divorce was not a miracle, or a tragedy, or even a complication.