Chapter 11 - THE WOMAN WHO BUILT HER OWN LIFE
By the eighth month of pregnancy, I had begun to feel like myself again.
My apartment was small.
The furniture was secondhand.
The nursery was barely larger than a closet.
But it was mine.
I chose the curtains.
The crib.
The paint.
Nobody told me what I should want.
Nobody made me feel guilty for needing reassurance.
One afternoon, my attorney called.
“Claire.”
I smiled.
“Hello.”
She hesitated.
“Alexander has requested permission to attend the birth.”
My stomach tightened.
I looked toward the nursery.
The tiny clothes folded neatly on the dresser.
The stuffed elephant Michael had bought.
I swallowed.
“Does he understand that being present doesn't mean we're getting back together?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Then said, “He can come to the hospital.”
A pause.
“But only if he respects my boundaries.”
May you like
My attorney nodded.
“I'll make that clear.”
