When I agreed to babysit my neighbor’s daughter, I expected laughter and crayons, not a question that would shatter my world. She looked at me with wide eyes and asked, “Why are you wearing my mommy’s necklace?” and in that moment, nothing in my life made sense anymore.

There’s no greater happiness in life than being a mother, at least that’s what I’d always believed.

And when I finally got pregnant, that belief became even stronger.

My Ethan and I had agreed to start trying a year into our marriage.

We both waited for those two little lines on the test like kids waiting for Christmas.

When they finally appeared one quiet morning, I screamed so loud I woke Ethan by jumping on the bed, waving the test in front of his sleepy face.

Motherhood felt like my purpose.

I spent hours imagining what our baby would look like, how it would feel to hold them for the first time, what kind of parents we’d be.

One morning, when I was seven months along, I stepped out into the garden with a cup of herbal tea.

Then I heard laughter and a woman’s voice coming from the other side of the fence.

My neighbor, Hannah, was chasing her four-year-old daughter across the yard.

I admired Hannah. A single mother, working hard, always patient, always gentle with her little girl.

I couldn’t imagine how hard that must be, raising a child alone. My hand rested on my belly, a quiet thank-you in my heart for the husband who shared this journey with me.

I walked closer to the fence. “Good morning, Hannah!”

“Hey!

How are you feeling?”

“Big and slow,” I laughed. “How about you?”

“Honestly? Not great.

I just got laid off. So now I’m trying to find something new before the rent’s due again.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said softly. “I’m sure you’ll find something soon.”

“Thanks.

I’m trying to stay positive. Anyway, I should go, I promised to drop Lily off at my mom’s before lunch.”

“Good luck with everything,” I said, and she waved before running inside with her daughter.

A few days later, I was coming back from a walk when I saw Hannah sitting on her front steps, her head in her hands. Lily played quietly beside her, drawing on the pavement with chalk.

I crossed the yard. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“I have a job interview tomorrow, but my mom’s sick, and I’ve got no one to watch Lily. I might have to cancel.”