There was a twinge of regret, a small wish that I’d had more time to celebrate the publication of my first book on its own terms without being 37 weeks pregnant the day it came out. I wished I could have planned a book tour without having to consider which venues would have a quiet place to breastfeed between reading and signing. And yet, both were the things I'd been working toward for my recent adulthood, things I'd made through my own body's ability to bounce back after loss. I envisioned their births as a victory lap after years of work and faith.