I gave birth to Kaden Barlow's son on the day of a full moon . I'd woken up a few times during the night, dazzled by the moonlight coming in the window and assuming the discomfort in my belly was period cramps. I wasn't awake enough to register that they couldn't be. By the time morning came the pain was worse. I ripped the covers off myself and looked down at my belly only to see it visibly tightening in front of my eyes, hard enough to push the breath out of my lungs when the pain hit.

"Ooooh..." I moaned, closing my eyes and leaning my head back on the pillow. There was an immediate knock at the door.

"Tash?"

It was Ray. "Everything OK? Can I come in?"

As soon as he saw my face, Ray disappeared back out the door. When he came back, Alisha was with him. She gently pulled the covers the rest of the way off me and all three of us looked down at the wet, pink spot on the bed.

Alisha smiled at me. "It's time, Tash. Is your bag still by the front door? How do you feel?"

I looked up at Ray and Alisha as a surge of adrenaline rushed through my veins. Was it happening? Finally? "I feel fine," I told her. "I mean, right now I feel fine, but the cramps are painful."

"Alright," she told me, taking immediate charge of the situation. "Ray, you go make sure the bag is by the front door and tell your mother it's happening. I'll call the hospital and see if we should go in yet."

A nurse at the hospital asked for Alisha to hold the phone near my mouth so she could hear me breathing, asked how much liquid there seemed to be on the bed and then told me it was probably time to come in. So me, my mother and Alisha - both of whom were to be my birthing partners - all managed to get ourselves into the car to drive to the hospital. The pains seemed to get worse after standing up and walking around, even if it was only briefly. By the time we pulled up outside they were bad enough to have me convinced something was seriously wrong.

"This is - Alisha, this is bad," I panted as two orderlies rushed out with two wheelchairs - one for me, one for my mother. "I feel like I can't breathe. I think something, oh God, I think something's wrong."

I was starting to panic. My mother reached out and took one of my hands as we were pushed into the reception area. "Nothing's wrong, Tash," she said. "It hurts like hell, but nothing's wrong. You're just having a baby."

Alisha bent down. "And we're here now, anyway. If something's wrong, people here are trained to deal with it."

It took me a long time to fill out all the forms at the front desk, what with having to pause and groan like a cow every few minutes, but we got it done and then were led to an examination room where I was subjected to an internal examination that had me grinding my teeth so hard I was surprised they didn't break.

"You're seven centimeters!" The nurse announced, pulling off her rubber gloves and smiling. "That's excellent! Most first time moms aren't even two when they come in - you're already more than halfway there."

Alisha and my mother arranged themselves so there was one of them sitting on each side of me, close to my head. They took turns feeding me ice chips and letting me squeeze their hands as hard as I could whenever a contraction hit. The pain was so all-encompassing that it felt, at times, like a kind of unconsciousness. I could hear their gentle, encouraging voices, though, even if they seemed to be coming from very far away.

Everything moved very quickly. By the time I was settled in and starting to beg for painkillers it was too late for an epidural.

"I can't do this," I wailed, looking at my mother and then at Alisha. "I can't do this. It's too much. I want to go home."

My mom smiled while Alisha ran a cool, damp cloth over my forehead. "We can go home, sweetie, but first, we have to get that baby out."

Images of Kaden flickered through my mind. The smile he used to give me - not the cool-guy smile he gave his friends but the open, guileless smile he seemed to reserve only for me. Could he sense what was happening? Was he thinking of me as I lay in that hospital bed out of my mind with pain? There was no reason he would be, but in that state, it didn't matter.

After what felt like hours - it turned out to be forty minutes - of pushing, a nurse placed a tiny, slippery thing on my chest and Alisha and my mother started to cry. I looked down and heard my breath catch in my throat.

"It's a boy!" A nurse told us, as I stared deep into a pair of dark blue eyes and knew that everything was suddenly and profoundly different.

"Oh my God," Alisha whispered, "Tash, he's so beautiful. Look at him! He knows you're his mom."

Neither of them said it, the thing we were all thinking - not Alisha, not my mother. They left it to me. A few minutes later, when the sudden rush of the birth had calmed down and we were left alone with our new family member, I caught a glimpse of my son's face at a certain angle.

"He looks just like Kaden," I gasped, shocked at the resemblance.

"He does," my mom replied, running one finger down my baby's impossibly soft, newborn cheek. "He looks just like his daddy. He has your chin, though."

Alisha and my mom - and Ray - wanted me to tell Kaden. They were respectful about it, sensing that it was a sensitive issue for me, and they didn't push me or nag me, but I knew how they felt, even if none of them mentioned it in the immediate aftermath of the birth.

We didn't stay in the hospital for very long. I was discharged about five hours later and sent home with a pack of diapers, a doughnut pillow and a box of what appeared to be gigantic maxi pads. The doughnut pillow made me laugh at first, but Alisha gave me a look.

"You won't be laughing later," she said, "believe me."

I named my son Henry after my mother, Henrietta. If he had been a girl, Henrietta it would have been. There was never any doubt in my mind. Actually, I named him Henry Kaden, but I didn't mention his second name to my family, not right away, anyway, when my body and mind were still reeling from what I'd just been through, surfing waves of hormones I seemed to be in no control of.

And everyone was in love with Henry - not least his besotted, emotional mother. I have never been more prone to bursting into tears than I was during those first few weeks after his arrival. One time it was a diaper commercial on TV, another time the image of Rosa reaching into his bassinet and whispering a nursery rhyme that Ray and Alisha sang to her at bedtime.

The office hired a temporary replacement for three months - something they didn't have to do - and those three months went by in a blur of sleepless nights, tears (from Henry and from me) and love so fierce and pure it changed who I was. I've always been proud of my toughness, maybe stupidly so, but the arrival of Henry with his long eyelashes and his fat cheeks brought a fragility to me and the world that terrified me. Everything suddenly seemed so fraught, so precious. My mother caught me one evening in the kitchen, sobbing.

"Tash," she whispered, holding my head against her bosom, "now you know."

"Now I know what?" I asked, crying even harder at the thought that one day, I wouldn't have my mother there to hold me against her chest and make it seem like everything was going to be OK.

"Now you know what it is to love someone so much it breaks you in two."

And that's exactly what it was. Henry didn't just break me two, he smashed me into pieces, and then the love I had for him put me back together again, still me but sensitive now to all the dangers lurking in the world, more aware of how special my family and our interconnected bonds truly were.

I brought my son into the office when he was ten weeks old and the fear that he was going to catch some dread disease if I stepped outside of the house with him for even a second had dissipated - mostly. The women passed him around, cooing and squealing with delight when he offered up on of his wide, dimpled smiles. The men did their thing, too, commenting on how strong he looked, joking that they were going to have to be nicer to me now because Henry was clearly going to be able to beat them all up by the time he was two.

A couple of weeks after that, I went back to work. Alisha and Ray had taken on extra duties at their own jobs during the three months I had off and I knew I couldn't ask for any more. They pulled Rosa out of daycare and Alisha stayed home during the days to look after both her own daughter and my son. I split night duties with CeeCee when Alisha worked the night shift at her job. It was incredibly hard, but it was only temporary. When Henry was six months old he would go to the same daycare as Rosa and I would figure out my final schedule at work when the time came.

I was preparing dinner in the kitchen one night with Henry in his bouncy seat on the table, watching my every move with fascination, when CeeCee walked in and told me there was a phone call for me.

"For me?" I asked, confused because she was holding the landline phone in her hand, the one we barely used but that my mother insisted on having. CeeCee put her hand over the receiver and stage-whispered:

"It sounds like someone important."

I grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped off my hands before taking the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Natasha Greeley?"

"Who - who may I ask is calling?" I asked, flustered by the business-like tone of the man on the other end.

"I'm a reporter with TKZ in Los Angeles and I'm wondering if you have any comment on the allegations that you recently gave birth to Kaden Barlow's baby?"

Pins and needles shot out from the center of my body to the tips of my fingers and toes. I jerked the phone away from my ear and pressed the hang-up button without responding.

"Don't answer that number again," I said breathlessly to CeeCee, "don't-"

"Why?"

"Just don't answer it. Look at me." I waited until I had my little sister's full attention. "Don't answer it. And if someone calls the landline again asking for me tell them they have the wrong number. OK?"

"But-"

"CeeCee!" I snapped, trying to slow down my breathing before the shock of getting the call turned into a full-blown panic attack. "Just don't take it!"

"OK," she replied, seeing how upset I was. "I won't." She went back to the living room to hang the phone up and I stumbled to the kitchen table and sat down in one of the chairs, pressing my hand against my chest in a futile attempt to slow down my hammering heart.

How could anyone know? How could a tabloid reporter know? No one knew - no one except my family and Jen and Lena. And I knew with one-hundred percent certainty that not one of those people would even think about calling the tabloids, let alone go ahead and do it.

The reporter called again the next day and then next and the next. He started calling during the day and then again at night, around nine o'clock. It didn't take long for everyone to figure out that something was going on, so one night after dinner I sat Ray and Alisha down and told them who was making the calls.

I watched them exchange worried looks before Ray spoke up. "Do you have any idea who told them? I thought it was just us and Jen and Lena who knew?"

"It is," I told him. "I have no idea how they found out - it seems impossible."

"Well," Alisha commented, "he looks just like Kaden and a lot of people know you were with him. Didn't he show up at work one day? It wouldn't be too hard to put two and two together, I don't think."

"Either way, next time they call, let me take it." Ray said.

"What are you going to say?" I asked, hopeful that there was still some way we could make the whole issue go away.

"I'll tell them they're harassing you and if they keep it up I'll call the police."

The very next day, exactly that happened. Ray took the call and told the reporter he would call the police if the calls continued. They stopped for three days before starting up again. The reporter told Ray that they were going to publish the story with or without comment from me. I lay in bed that night with Henry sleeping peacefully beside me and tried to figure out whether it would be a good idea to make a comment or just to continue to ignore it. Alisha was probably right that it was someone making assumptions who'd called the tabloid in the first place. There had been no DNA tests because Henry's paternity wasn't in question, but no one except me and those closest to me actually had proof of anything. Perhaps I could just simply tell the reporter that it was a mistake?

Just as I was about to drift off to sleep my cell phone vibrated and, half-asleep, I answered it without checking to see who it was.

"Tasha?"

I froze. It was Kaden. The day where I wouldn't recognize that deep voice was never going to come.

"Tasha?" He asked again when I failed to respond.

"Uh, hi, yes," I stammered, keeping my voice quiet so Henry wouldn't wake up. "Hi Kaden. How are you? Is everything OK?"

"Things are - well, things are mostly fine," he replied. "I'm in Little Falls, by the way - at my parent's house right now. I'd like to see you tomorrow, if possible."