I gave birth without my husband because he went out drinking with his friends, and the person who saved me was his ninety-year-old grandmother.I got pregnant right after high school.The second Jack found out, he proposed. I didn’t have parents to call or a family home to run back to. They both died when I was young. By the time I married Jack, he was my whole support system.We were living in Rose’s house. She had let us move in after the wedding because we were broke and trying to save money before the baby came. Jack always talked about the place like it was already his. He was her only grandson. He assumed one day the house would pass to him.He would forget bills, show up late, leave dishes in the sink, then grin and say, “You married a work in progress.”I kept telling myself the baby would change him.

Then the day before my due date, I came home and found a note on the kitchen counter.Not Jack. Just a note.It said: The guys invited me out to a bar. We might end up partying for a few days. I needed to clear my head. I asked Grandma Rose to help you just in case. But don’t you dare give birth without me!I sat at the kitchen table staring at that note and felt something cold settle in my chest. I was angry. I sat at the kitchen table staring at that note and felt something cold settle in my chest.At 2:17 a.m., the first real contraction hit me so hard I dropped the glass in my hand.It shattered across the kitchen floor.