She’d figured out so much in the last few months. She knew, with every inch of her soul, that she would figure this out, too. They would figure this out—she and Ezra. Because every decision she made wasn’t just about her now. It wasn’t even just about them. It was about their future, their family. She would remember that. They would choose well. Together.

xxxiii

You’re going to have a little sister. She’s already a troublemaker, poking her feet into my spine, pushing down against my bladder. But I try not to complain, because she’s here. She’s growing. She’s big enough that if she was born tomorrow, she’d be okay. I can’t tell you how relieved I felt when we hit that milestone. She can survive outside my body in a way that you never could, that the baby after you never could.

We’re not sure what to name her. I never named you, and I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry that whenever I think about what you would be like, I don’t have a name to attach to the image. You would be nearly thirteen. Almost in high school. Probably taller than me, or just about. With friends and ideas and passions of your own. Maybe you’d play piano, or guitar, or drums. Or maybe you’d love math like your aunt Ari. Or maybe you wouldn’t have made it this far, like Malcolm. I try to keep all the what ifs in play, not just the good ones.

Your father and I have been in touch, between our shows. We’ve talked a lot about you, about what would’ve happened if you’d been born, and we both agreed it would’ve been hard. That neither one of us might have made it to the place we’re at now, that we might have given you to a family who would have been able to take better care of you than we could. It’s hard to live in the land of what if. And the longer you live, the more what ifs you collect.

I won’t lie—touring while pregnant has been rough, but I didn’t want to sacrifice one dream for another, so I did it. And sharing my music, feeling that connection with the audience, made every difficulty worth it. I played my last show in Philly yesterday. And now I’m home for a while, at least until your sister is born. And who knows how long after that. Your aunt Ari wants to know the plan, but right now there isn’t one. Right now the plan is to wait and see.

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