After my husband’s funeral, I whispered, “My water just broke.” His mother scoffed, “We’re grieving. Call a taxi yourself.”

She didn’t even react.

“We’re grieving,” she scoffed. “Call a taxi yourself.”

Derek checked his watch. “Not tonight, Claire.”

Not tonight.

As though labor could be postponed like a reservation.

As though Samuel’s child was a minor inconvenience.