It all felt real. The wave of contractions as they settled in my stomach, then faded a minute later to where I could breathe again. My husband frantically rushing by me to grab last minute items before we headed off to the hospital. He was running around, like a chicken with its head cut off, while I quietly chuckled to myself.

"What?" He stopped mid step as another contraction hit me, almost like a punch to my gut.

"It's just you're running around. . . hang on. . . contraction." I winced, taking in some deep breaths until the contraction passed. "You're like a chicken with its head cut off."

"Pretty funny, huh?"

"I'm glad you find this funny."

"I'll take humor wherever I can find it right now." I rubbed at my swollen stomach, willing this baby to stay in a little while longer. "In fact, you might be finding humor in your wife delivering this baby at home if you don't get a move on. Contractions are getting stronger and closer together." I raised my eyebrows in emphasis as he disappeared into the other room, coming back with my bag and still offering an arm so I could get myself off the couch.

As we moved towards the car, I felt like a slow-moving whale who was being stabbed by an imaginary spear. By the time I had hefted myself up into the passenger seat, I was out of breath as another contraction hit. Needless to say, the car ride was slow and quiet as I focused all my attention on breathing.

I remembered insisting not going to the ER. Somehow it felt scarier when I imagined bringing our son through a germ infested place I worked every day. So we went through the front of the hospital to the elevator that led up to the maternity ward.

When we arrived upstairs, a nurse I had only met a couple times announced behind the desk." "Dr. Rorish. we have a room all ready for you." She wheeled a wheelchair around after checking our information on the computer. I wanted to protest sitting, but another contraction hit me like a ton of bricks and my legs buckled underneath me.

So I was wheeled down the hall, just like any pregnant mother in labor. I changed into a hospital issued gown with the help of my husband, who held me through contractions. I refused to sit in bed until the doctor came to check how dilated I was.

Dr. Raleigh confirmed that I was eight centimeters dilated, which was good news considering I had already been in labor for twelve hours. It was finally hitting us that we were finally going to meet this baby really soon, and it was true because we meet Spencer about an hour and a half later. All seven pounds, thirteen ounces of him.

Greg broke down and cried as our baby was placed on my chest. "He's perfect." He stated through the loud cries of our newborn son. "All ten fingers, all ten toes."

"We have a son." I finally stated through the shock as I looked him over. "I have a feeling he's going to use those lungs for something fierce."

"Just like his mom." Dr. Raleigh joked as he looked over at Greg. "Dad, would you like to cut the cord?"

"Yeah." Greg took the scissors and cut the cord, officially de-attaching our baby from my body.

"Spencer." I uttered without taking my eyes off our son who had now calmed as the nurse laid a blanket over him to keep him warm.

"What was that?" Greg asked as he handed the scissors over to the nurse.

"I think we should name him Spencer."

"I thought you hated that name?" Greg asked, clearly surprised at the choice I had just made. Perhaps it had been the euphoria I was feeling after giving birth, or maybe it was just seeing his little face to know the name worked for him.

"I did." I rubbed a hand over Spencer's back as the nurse worked to clear the fluids from his throat. "But now that we've met him, I see it fits."

"Spencer Rorish. Has a good ring to it." Leaning down, Greg kissed me passionately on the lips.

My eyes fluttered open, my fingers lingering over my lips as if he had just kissed me. As if the dream was real and had occurred a few days ago instead of almost ten years ago. Oh, how my heart hurt as I gazed over at the empty side of the bed. My husband was supposed to be lying there, sleeping beside me. My kids were supposed to quietly pad into my room way too early and snuggle in between my husband and me.

Often times I was exhausted from working long shifts in the ER and sometimes I even felt like telling them to go back to sleep in their own beds. Although I never had the energy to do so, I now wondered why I had taken any of it for granted. I would never have Charlie kicking me in his sleep. Spencer was at that age where he didn't want much to do with Greg or me anymore. This was the only time he really snuggled with us and I realized how much I loved it.

Now it would never happen again. I would never get that chance to tell them how much I loved them. To kiss my husband one more time as he pulled himself out of bed to get the boys ready for school and he would often let me stay in bed a little longer.

What purpose did my life have now that they were gone? My life had no purpose as a mother, a wife, or even a doctor. I felt beyond numb. I never wanted to help another living soul as long as I lived because I had lost my whole life. I felt like nothing and I had no longer had a desire to get out of bed without them.