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When I was eighteen, there was only one boy who made me feel loved.
But after graduation he walked away.
I spent the next years convinced something was wrong with me.
My husband ended up leaving because I couldn't get pregnant, so I became a nurse and built a life alone.
Then Miles showed up at our high school reunion, and one night on the bleachers erased all the time away.
But I noticed the tremor in his hand when he reached for me.
I'm a nurse, I knew what it was before he told me.
Then one morning he was gone, not even a call or text, just an empty house and the whole town whispering that he left me again.
Last night, I was throwing up in the bathroom, so I went to the doctor and she told me I was pregnant.
The thing my ex-husband left me over.
The thing I was told my body couldn't do.
I went back home and my mother found me crying on the bathroom floor, and said, "I think I know where he is."
I drove an hour to a care facility and found the only man I've ever loved sitting in a wheelchair, trying to disappear before I had to watch.
But I took his hand, put it on my stomach and said,
"You don't get to leave... not this time."
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