The contraction hit like a freight train, splitting my world into jagged shards of agony

Another contraction seized me, more violent than the last. I didn’t scream this time; I channeled the rage into the effort. As the room blurred and the world narrowed down to the singular, primal need to bring my child into the light, I realized that the divorce hadn’t been an ending. It had been the crucible. And whatever happened when the baby finally arrived, I was no longer the woman who needed his approval. I was a mother, and that was a power he could never take away.