Biting cold floors on bare feet,
the smell of plastic bags,
pushpin skin for an IV drip,
over and over and over.
My life upended.
Finding a place for myself
in a world that suddenly feels
so foreign, so new.
How had I ever lived
in it before?
Was it always this painful?
This frightening?
“How do I do this?”
I ask everyone, anyone.
“I can’t do this,”
I tell my husband, at least twice a day.
“I think I’ll do it anyway,”
I tell myself, swollen belly cradled
in my hands.