I thoughtThey’d check me,Smile politely,And send me home. “I’ve just got some pressure,”I said. Pressure. The kind that makes youCall the hospitalFrom a curbOutside a friend’s houseAt three in the morning. The nurses looked at me,Then looked at each other. “You’re five centimetres.” Five centimetres? No.That couldn’t be right. I hadn’t counted contractions.I hadn’t breathed…

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