Is it Braxton Hicks? I approach the front desk bewildered, saying, 'I think I am in labour.' I rush to the hospital with back pain, unsure if I am overreacting. I'm eating waffles for breakfast after kissing my husband goodbye as he leaves for work. These days, I replay every moment of the day she was born like a cinematic reel on fast-forward. Against the odds, our daughter held on, her little watery heartbeat pumping and her hands waving on the screen.

The subsequent months were a roller coaster - high moments building a crib and purchasing clothes low moments of bleeding and hospital stays due to complications with the pregnancy. Walji took many pregnancy tests that came back negative over the course of her multi-year fertility journey. I didn't believe it at first, refusing to celebrate, nervously peeing on pregnancy tests every morning for several days. After a lot of time, pain, money and exhaustion, we got pregnant. In between the self-administered hormone injections and incessant blood work that left scarring on my arms, my feelings of inadequacy ballooned. 'When should we have children?' became, 'can we have children?' I had an inkling that getting pregnant would be difficult, and a barrage of visits to the doctor and medical tests cemented my worries. My husband waited patiently for me to discover the world before gently broaching the topic of children. The future was full of opportunity and children did not yet fit into my plans as a lawyer. In quiet moments of existentialism, I queried how I would make the world a better place.

I was a law school graduate, reeling from years spent poring over small print in thick textbooks. Nine years ago, children were far from my mind. I take a deep breath, and say, 'start cutting.' I am not afraid to die, so my daughter will live. I see her walking beside him, holding his hand, growing up kind and smart and happy. I imagine my husband holding a baby in his arms, a smile radiating across his face. The tightness in my chest eases a little. I think about how he closes his eyes when he laughs deeply. I picture his face, the way it was glowing the day we were married. My husband rushes to my side and slips his hand into mine, his deep voice steadying me just as he has many times over the past seven months of our tumultuous pregnancy. Walji, left, with her husband Sameer Gulamani on their wedding day in 2015.

The ten tiny breaths series