She made it

One of the hardest times was when I thought I was going to die alone.

I was stable you see and no one seemed to worry about me just then. I just couldn't leave the hospital. And little S had been picked up from school by my dad and didn't know what was going on but we had promised her we would come home "tonight". This was before we stopped making promises, before we learned we would just have to break them. So Mistress left and started to drive home at ten in the evening.

Shortly after that the pain started. It made me puke. I thought my head was going to split in two. They gave me morphin but it didn't help. I texted her: Pain. Throwing up. Turn around and come back.

She did but she was almost all the way home by then, at least 45 minutes from me. And I really really thought I was going to die on that bed, surrounded by strangers prodding and poking me, while she was driving through the night to reach me.

I didn't, obviously. And they didn’t even had to do an emergency c-section. She came and she held my hand and her just being there made the terror sink away. Because then at least I wouldn't die alone.