After the divorce, I had no one left to lean on.

For the sake of the child growing inside me, I swallowed my pride and took every job I could find. On the day I went into labor, I drove myself to the hospital, trembling through every red light.

Minutes after my baby cried for the first time, the doctor looked down at him—and suddenly broke into tears. “This… this can’t be possible,” he whispered.

PART 1

I gave birth alone, because my ex-husband had said I was “no longer his problem.” Ten minutes later, the doctor holding my newborn son looked at his tiny face, went pale, and began to cry.

“This… this can’t be possible,” he whispered.

I was too exhausted to understand. My hair was soaked, my hands were shaking, and my body felt like it had been split open by grief and pain.

I’d driven myself to the hospital at dawn, one hand on the wheel, the other pressed against my stomach, begging my baby to wait.

He didn’t.