I tried jumping rope, chewing raw herbs that were said to move the blood and going without food for three days, but the baby stayed strong.
In the end, I couldn’t keep forcing it.
I became foolish, holding on to the idea of giving birth to my ex-husband’s baby.
I lived in a small basement room, worked a part-time shift at a diner and supported myself and the tiny life growing inside me.
I talked to him every day, telling him about my daily life.
I bought him many tiny outfits, even finding a crib at a used market.
I gave him the nicest things I was able to buy.
I thought everything would stay steady, but one night I suddenly had heavy bleeding.
“The placenta has dropped low all of a sudden, almost covering the whole cervix.”
“You need to stay in the hospital to keep the pregnancy, or you won’t be able to keep the baby.” The doctor’s flat voice felt like a hammer hitting my heart.
The price for keeping the pregnancy was too high; I couldn’t afford it.
With painful tears running down my face and blood under me think of Freddie.
Lying on the hospital bed, after struggling inside, I finally called Freddie.
The ringing dragged on.
When Freddie answered, it felt like forever.
“Hello?”