Alone
When I found out about my husband's death, I was 19 years old and 9 months pregnant. I had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry just a year before. Michael and I had been married two months after that.
There had always been someone there to help me when I needed it in my life. When my mother had died in my 4th year at Hogwarts, my friends had helped me through the year. When I came home at the end of that same year to find out my father was now an alcoholic, my two aunts took me in. In my 5th year when I struggled with balancing my prefect duties and preparing for the OWLs, and again in my 7th year with the NEWTs, Michael had been by my side. He had been my rock, the one person I could always turn to. He never questioned and always supported me. But he was dead.
My friends had scattered after graduating. They were busy, using the wits that had gotten us into Ravenclaw. Some were training to be aurors; others were working for Gringotts, touring the world, or making their fortunes. There were also a couple like me who had settled down to raise their own families. I received nothing more than an occasional owl from all of them.
My aunts, who had supported me for three whole years, had retired after my graduation. They had moved to Florida, in the United States. They deserved the rest.
And Michael was dead. My thoughts traveled many paths that night, but they always returned to that fact. Micheal was dead, and I was about to give birth.
Michaela Arianna Smitherson was born late on that stormy night, the night of her fathers death.