I should have clocked out and begun the three week wait for my precious baby boy to come screaming into this world.

Instead I’ll set my alarms Sunday evening and be back to work Monday morning, a smile on my face so that my ailing patients can’t see that inside I feel empty and broken.

I delivered my sleeping son three months ago.

There will be no three week wait.

There will be no mad dash to the hospital when he decides that today is the day- I’m coming mama!

There will not be a congregation of my nearest and dearest cooing over the beautiful little human I get to take home to love and fawn over forever.

There will be no happy ending. Not this time.

And it hurts. So fucking much.