My husband abandoned me one day before my due date to go on vacation with his parents; “You’ll be fine,” he said, “just take a taxi to the hospital, the tickets are nonrefundable”; I stayed silent, the next morning he called panicking, “Honey, what is going on?”; I replied coldly, “That’s the price you pay,” then I hung up.
My name is Maya Wallace. I was thirty years old, and less than twenty-four hours stood between me and my initiation into motherhood. My hospital bag, meticulously packed, rested by the front door like a sentinel. On top sat a tiny blue blanket, washed and folded with the tender anticipation only a first-time mother truly […]
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