I don’t tell this story. It’s one of those things that you keep in the deep parts of your mind but never forget. I was at the hospital about to give birth to my son. It was day three and my amniotic fluid was running low, Jamon’s movements were starting to hurt. The contractions were moderate but I wasn’t dilating. I would end up having a C-section with my doctor doing two things—delivering my baby and removing a dermoid cyst that might have been there since I was born. But this story isn’t about me or my son.