This child, Edward’s child, was a whole different story. I wanted him like I wanted air to breathe. Not a choice—a necessity. Maybe I just had a really bad imagination. Maybe that was why I’d been unable to imagine that I would like being married until after I already was—unable to see that I would want a baby until after one was already coming.… As I put my hand on my stomach, waiting for the next nudge, tears streaked down my cheeks again.
Happy Mother’s Day!