“Your husband?” One of the nurses asked as they wheeled me down the corridor.“He…he left me,” I replied, the reality of those words settling into my bones.Margaret, who had followed us inside, interjected. “Don’t worry about that now, dear. You’re in good hands.”

The next few hours were a blur of medical procedures and the raw, primal experience of childbirth. I clung to the encouraging words of the doctors and nurses, drawing strength from their expertise and kindness. Finally, with one last push, a powerful wail filled the room, and my son was placed on my chest.