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lie down on the sofa and stare out the living room window, I absentmindedly stroke my rounded belly and wonder what my little munchkin is doing in there. She hasn’t moved in a while and I miss the feeling of her tiny foot touching my palm. I’ve come to embrace this pregnancy, however unexpected it was, and accept it. Accept that in eight weeks I’m going to be a mother. The road behind me has been a difficult one and I have no doubt that I only made it this far with the unconditional support from my grandmother. There have been moments when I’ve wished that things were different, but only because I envisioned sharing my first pregnancy with the father of my child. But I’ve learned that not everything happens the way we plan it and if we’re lucky, we’ll survive however they happen. The first time I felt my baby kick, I cried. The magic of the moment was overwhelming, but so was the realization that I’m doing this alone. Sure, I have my grandmother, and she made that clear from the beginning, but it’s not the same. I had to make peace with my decision not to tell Kyle or my parents that I was pregnant. At the time, I felt like I was doing what was best for me and my baby. But some days my fears made me wish I had told them, even knowing that it wouldn’t change anything.
    With a heavy sigh, I lift myself off the sofa and walk to the kitchen. My belly grumbles. “Okay, princess,” I coo. “Mommy’s going to feed us now.”
    A sharp pain shoots through my belly and my spine, and I double over from the force of it. I let out a yelp and grip the kitchen counter until I think the pain is over. I straighten but then another pain shoots through my body and this time I scream. I feel warm liquid pool between my legs and expect to see that my water has broken. Instead, blood starts to stain my gray yoga pants and I panic. I’m alone at home and that only makes my sense of panic increase. With labored movements, I manage to grab the phone and call an ambulance. They arrive within ten minutes and by the time they’re wheeling me into the hospital, my pain is nearly unbearable. I’m rushed into the operating room and soon my obstetrician comes bursting through the doors. Three nurses follow behind him, each with a different piece of equipment, and they start setting everything up with a speed and efficiency that’s uncanny.
    “Okay, Hayley,” Dr. Burke says, taking in my pained and sweaty appearance. “I’m going to see what’s going on with your baby.”
    His serious expression frightens me, and it gives rise to tears. The physical pain and the fear of not knowing what’s wrong are strangling me. I’m lifted onto the hospital bed and roughly stripped of my yoga pants. Dr. Burke covers my lower body, propping my legs up, and starts feeling around my vagina. A nurse presses a wand to my stomach.
    “Ow!” I scream, struggling for breath between my sobs. “What’s going on? What’s going on with my baby?” My voice is hysterical and the questions come out rapidly and are almost indecipherable.
    Dr. Burke ignores me, watching the ultrasound screen with a concerned expression on his face while feeling around between my legs. He lifts his hand and removes the bloody glove.
    “Prep Miss Tanner for an emergency C-Section immediately. The baby has gone into fetal distress and is losing oxygen too quickly. We need to get her out now,” Dr. Burke instructs his team.
    There’s a sudden increase in the flurry of activity around me and my head is swimming. I’m given a shot of Demerol and an Epidural for the pain.. The nurse is speaking too quickly for me to catch anything she is saying.
    “What’s going on?” I ask again. “Dr. Burke, is she okay?”
    My questions go unanswered and the last thing I hear is “Quickly, she’s losing too much blood.” Then I hear a cry and voices and…nothing. Everything goes black. There’s no pain. No light. Just nothing.
    After what feels like forever, my heavy eyelids