At family dinner, I said “I’m about to give birth” my parents sneered, “Call a cab, we’re busy.” I drove to the ER in agony. A week later, mom knocked: “Let me see the baby.” I replied: “What baby?”
“That is not the same as being in labor.” My mother said it the way people discuss weather forecasts they do not fully trust. I pressed my hand against the curve of my stomach. The baby shifted. A slow, heavy movement beneath my ribs. “I know,” I said. “But my doctor told me not to…