Jen ran her hand through my hair. I looked into her eyes. She had big, beautiful, brown eyes. I liked it when she looked at me with those eyes. I closed the storybook and took her hands in mine.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Jen said.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I said.

“Oh, Nina.” Jen said, stroking my forehead.

“What’s the time?” I asked.

“What?” she said.

“The time,” I said.

“There’s still time,” Jen said. “We have a few hours.”

“That’s not enough. Jen, that’s not enough time.”

I opened the storybook and continued to read aloud again. Jen kept looking at me. I ignored her. The baby and I didn’t have much time left together. Once out, it would belong to the Millers. Forever.

“It’s not like you’ll never see her again,” Jen said. “You could visit the Millers once in a while and talk to her.”

“It won’t be the same, Jen.” I said.

“Why not?” she said.

“Because she will be theirs, not mine.” I said.

“No, not yours,” said Jen.

We stared at each other in silence. After a while, I sat up in the hospital bed. Just as Jen started to say something, I held up a hand and cut her off.

“She’s kicking.” I said.

Jen put her hands on my belly. We stayed like that for some time, Jen, the baby, and I. The baby kept kicking. Nobody said anything.

“Jen?” I said.

“Hmm?” She said.

“How many stories do you think mothers get to read to their kids?” I said.

She looked at me and said nothing.

I went back to my story. After I finished reading it, I read out another. And another. And another. When I finished the whole book, I handed it to Jen. She kept it on top of a pile of books on a chair, and quietly handed me a new one from another pile. I opened it and started to read without looking at her.

“You’ve read plenty. You should take some rest now.” Jen said.

I ignored her and kept reading, stroking my belly. We didn’t have enough time. I wanted the baby to remember my voice. Time, I needed time. Once the baby knew everything about me, the Millers could take her. But not before. I looked at Jen’s wristwatch. She followed my gaze.

I finished reading Thumbelina, and pointed at my diaries. Jen bit her lip.

“She needs to know everything about me,” I said. “We only have a couple hours.”

“I’ll help,” Jen said. “Let’s talk about you.”

So we talked. We told the baby about my childhood, my family, my dog Max, my school days, my first crush, my dreams, the various jobs I took up over the years, the mistakes I made, how Jen was always there, how I could never keep a job, how I ended up broke, how I met the Millers, and how I had her. We told her everything we could remember about me. We kept talking without a pause, now interrupting each other and now speaking together. Jen told her about senior prom and my blue dress. I was suddenly reminded of the blue skirt mom wore on a summer afternoon to the park, and told the baby about how she smiled at me and pushed me on the swing. I talked about mom’s smile and her voice and her comforting smell. Jen jumped up and started talking about Tyler, my first boyfriend, and how I used to go on and on about how good he smelled.

“Do you remember how crazy you were about him?” Jen laughed.

“I was head over heels in love with him.” I said, laughing back.

“And Mark was in love with her, you know. Poor Mark.” She said, touching my belly.

“But I loved Tyler. And nobody loved Mark.” I said.

“Nobody loved Mark,” she repeated.

“I wrote a poem about him, though.” I said.

“About Mark?” Jen said.

“Yes. Hand me that purple diary. The one with glitter all over it.” I said.

She handed it to me. I flipped the pages.

“Here it is.” I said.

Jen came closer. She smiled, and looked at the words as I read them.

“Why did you write a poem about Mark?” Jen said when I finished reading it.

“I felt bad for him.” I said.

“Remember when we laughed at Maggie because she felt too bad for Sam and wouldn’t break up with him?” Jen said.

“Maggie is my cousin.” I told the baby.

“Her favourite cousin.” Jen said.

We told the baby about Maggie, my other cousins, and my friends from school — people she would never meet. People I loved. People who would never know her, or get to love her the way they loved me. We told her about what I loved to eat, my favourite movies, and my favourite bands. Then it was time to prep me for surgery. Jen held my hand as I talked about things I did when I was pregnant with the baby. She squeezed my hand as I turned to the intern to ask for one more minute.

“I didn’t tell her how much I love her.” I said.

“Nina, I think the baby knows.” Jen said.

And then it was time to go.