For a few weeks there, as the end of the school year melted into the beginning of superhero dance camp, I was killing it. After a year of huge changes for our family, I felt like I was coming back into my own, and best of all I was writing consistently. I was crushing #1000WordsOfSummer (sidebar: preorder alert!) ; I was cooking more vegetables; I’d cracked open the cesspool that is Submittable and was sending out short stories; I was inventing creative afternoon activities for the boys so that none of us pulled our hair out.

I woke in the middle of the night with a stabbing pain that ran through my gut and up to my shoulder. It felt a bit like labor, though I knew there was no cute baby at the end of whatever the hell was going on now.