The day my son was born started at night.
I had been bouncing on a birthing ball for hours when I first noticed the first contractions.
“This feels different,” I thought. I kept it to myself since I didn’t want to alarm Le Husband for nothing. It was around 11 pm when we decided to go to bed. I kept feeling a wave-like tension in my uterus and, as someone who has read every book and article about childbirth under the sun, I knew. “I will meet my son tomorrow.”
The day my son was born two women took him away from me an hour after his birth.
Thinking I could get some hours of sleep before real labor started, I closed my eyes and started repeating my favorite mantra. Le Husband was lying by my side, asleep and beautiful, officially becoming a father with every passing minute. My mantra wasn’t soothing enough, so I put on Gilmore Girls.