Sick man with a nasal oxygen tube resting in bed during a medical examination | Source: Magnific
Jack died while I was six months pregnant, leaving me with two children to think about and more questions than I expected. Then a stranger appeared with something he’d hidden from me.
I was thirty-five and six months pregnant with our second daughter. Our four-year-old, Lucy, still believed Daddy was going to get better because that was what grown-ups did.
For eight months, my life had been lists.
Medication times.
Oncology appointments.
Insurance calls.