Sharp pains that no one should ever have to experience are coursing through my stomach and nether regions. It’s as if someone is slashing me with a knife from the inside. The front door opens, and my parents enter in a matter of minutes.

My mom gasps when she sees me on the floor. She steps in my fluids and blood to hold me. “Tell them we’ll take her to the hospital, Walt.”

“Honey, the ambulance is close.” My heavy eyes gaze up to see my dad standing in the doorway, still on the phone.

Each time the agony rips through me, I scream.

“I want to push,” I squeal.

“No!” Mom says. “Breathe with me, sweetheart.”

I nod and try to follow my mom through a course of breathing exercises. The harder I blow, the less effective the drill feels. I’m dizzy and weak. My body is succumbing to the pain and stress. I have no more fight left in me.

Sirens blare. Their loudness makes me keep breathing through the pain. I find solace in my mother’s arms until two guys guide me onto a stretcher. It all goes so fast from here. I’m in the back of the ambulance. The pain. The guy tells me to hold on. My mother guides me through breathing. We make it to the hospital. I’m soaring down the hallway under the fluorescent lights. I hear Dr. Reinhart’s soft and controlled voice. I hear a lot of talking. One word I can make out is “anesthesiologist.”

Soon after, my mom says, “I love you, sweetheart.” I can hear her clearly because the pain has stopped. “I’ll see you when you get out.”

Then I fade.

* * *

Dr. Reinhart has just explained that Hayden died. My eyes scan this quiet, small room. My mom is at my bedside, holding my hand. I’ve requested that no one is let in to see me—especially Randy. My heart aches. There’s only one question stuck in my mind, and I’ve already asked Dr. Reinhardt more than once.

“When can I see Hayden?”

Dr. Reinhart looks from my mom to me. “It’s not standard practice to…”

“Fuck standard practice. I’ve carried Hayden for seven months. I want to see him. I owe him that, and you owe it to me.”

Dr. Rinehart sighs softly. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

“In the meantime, your blood pressure is high, and you’re going to need time to rest and heal. And I also want to say that there’s nothing you could’ve done differently. You have a genetic disorder that makes your uterus weak.” My mom’s firm hand massages my shoulder. I place my hand on top of hers to soothe her. Unfortunately, she’s all too familiar with what the doctor is speaking about.

Dr. Reinhart goes on to advise me about getting pregnant in the future. If I ever decide to, she and I will try some new strategies early on that may work. I don’t say anything. I’m not one of those baby-crazy people. Hayden was special. He came on his own free will. He was supposed to have a place in this world, in my life. My heart hurts so much that it wants to shatter into a million pieces.

“Please,” I whimper. “Let me see him.” Tears are rolling, and I’m wailing, begging to see him.

“Gina, I understand what you want. It’s against hospital policy to bring—Hayden to your room, and you’ve just had surgery.”

I touch her arm. “Please. Take me to him.”

She looks me in the eyes. “Okay,” she finally says. “I’ll have the nurses prepare to take you to see him.”

* * *

A few hours later, two nurses come into my room. They have me put on a mask, gloves, and special robe before wheeling me to a room. They cleaned him up and swaddled him in a blanket.

My heart swells as they push me closer to the white bed he’s lying on. I whimper like a cold puppy stuck out in the rain. He’s so tiny, and parts of him are barely formed. It looks as if my body was working against him the whole time.

“Can we have some privacy?” I ask one of the nurses.

They look at each other before honoring my request. “We’ll be just outside. Call us when you’re ready.”

Once they’re gone, I’m able to really say good-bye to him. I picture how his life would’ve been. One can never really know how it all will go, but I would’ve tried my hardest to be a great mother and guide. I picture my dad teaching him how to build a sleigh and bait a hook. My mom would make cakes with him and teach him how to make food taste good as she did with me. I would teach him how to tie his shoe, brush his teeth, and say please and thank you. I’d prepare him for a world filled with people. I would talk him through dealing with mean ones and teach him how to be thankful for the nice ones.

I roll my chair closer to the bed. I’m still numb in the stomach, so it doesn’t hurt so much when I reach out to pick him up. He’s so light in my arms. I hold him. The nurses check on us constantly, but they don’t make me leave until I’m ready. Hours later, I’ve said my good-bye and told him I love him. I return to my room and stare out the window. Now I understand why Mom used to sit on the porch for hours after having miscarriages. I’m still so very brokenhearted, and I don’t want to see or speak to another soul.

* * *

It has been six nights since I left the hospital. My body feels a lot better. I have no more nausea, cramping, and body aches. I used to feel so heavy whenever I walked from point A to point B, C, D, and F, but no more.

However, I’ve been stuck in my house, confused about what to do next. Randy has been handling the restaurant like a pro. When I was in the hospital, Randy requested to see me a number of times, but outside of my parents, I wasn’t taking visitors. My dad said that he also requested to see Hayden. I was happy that he got to say good-bye to our son.

Carrie has left me dozens of voice mails. One of the many things I love about Carrie is that she doesn’t dwell on anything for too long. Only once did she say, “Sorry for your loss.” The rest of her messages are about work. The restaurant has opened, and on the first night, the place was packed because of our marketing efforts. The second night, it sort of dwindled, but we had already received twenty-three five-star Yelp reviews.

If only I could get excited about that. It’s as if I’ve been trapped in a dark cloud. I have all of this guilt about moving on. Now I see why my mom tried so hard to get pregnant again every time she lost a child.

My doorbell rings, and I look at the door.

“Gina, it’s me!” Naomi says.

I hop to my feet. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to move this fast. I hurry over to let her in.

As soon as we see each other, we hug. It’s a tight embrace that says more than words can convey. She comes in, and we sit on my sofa.

“So, I’ve spoken to Randy. He’s worried about you.”

I sigh. “I know. It’s just…”

Naomi looks at me as if she’s waiting for me to finish expressing my thoughts.

“It’s just, why should he care about me? I’ve lost our son. That’s what was holding us together in the first place.”

Naomi furrows her brow. “Is that what you think?”

Suddenly, I notice the big diamond on her finger. I point to it. “What’s that?”

“Oh…” she says nonchalantly. “Derek asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

“Wow!” Finally, I have something to really be happy about. “You’re marrying the sexy professor?”

She chuckles bashfully. “You have to stop calling him that.”

I laugh. “I will as soon as he develops a gut, a third eye, and a wart on the middle of his forehead. Score a big one for you, Nom.”

“Yeah.” She’s still grinning, red faced. “He’s more than I could ever ask for in a guy.” She claps her hands. “But back to you. What are you going to do—sit in here and waste away? That’s not like you at all, Gina.”

I curl up on the sofa and grab my knees. It’s as if my body is digging in, showing Naomi that I’m refusing to move forward.

“It’s just, I feel so…”

“Guilty?”

I skip a breath. “Yes.”

Naomi takes one of my hands and squeezes it. “Love, loss, happiness, sadness—all of that is part of life. If the bad happens, the only way to keep good from following is to do exactly what you’re doing right now.”

I think long and hard as what she says makes its way through my reasoning.

She jumps to her feet. “Get dressed.”

“Huh?”

She extends an arm for me. “Come. Let’s get you dressed. I want you to see something.”

I look away from her hand. “I don’t know.”

“Gina. Dig deep inside yourself and find your spirit. Come on.” Naomi doesn’t move her hand.

I take a few deep breaths. It’s definitely time to do something aside from drowning in my misery. So I take her hand.

“Good girl,” she says.

As soon as I make it to my feet, she rewards me with another big hug.

* * *

I go to my room and put on a pair of sweat pants and a bulky sweater. Naomi says we’re leaving the house, and it’s eighteen degrees out tonight. I had no idea it was nighttime. My educated guess is that she’s taking me to a restaurant. As soon as I’ve put on my winter boots, my coat, and a cap, I walk out into the living room.

I gasp. Randy gets up from where he’s sitting on the sofa.

“Hi,” he says, waving tentatively.

My heart is pounding like thunder. “Hi.”