By the third trimester she wondered if the baby would be born with stretch- marks, but the doctor said the newborn would be normal. She left with a prescription for heartburn meds, blood tests and a pamphlet on depression.
 She slept between cushions in a half-seated position watching angled elbows and knees shifting her drum-tight belly. Beneath her t-shirt the stretch-marks were thick as ropes and the growing force pushed up, under her ribs so she couldn't breathe. 
 Then, one night the baby made a dive downward to lock into her pelvis. The flood of relaxin made the sciatic pain so crippling she gripped anything nearby to stand upright. Sometimes she dropped to the ground with Braxton Hicks and crawled down the hall to find an ice pack. 
 At twenty weeks, hot amniotic fluid trickled down her leg and pooled under the desk. She booked leave and began timing contractions until she couldn't concentrate. 
 Hours later, on her way to theatre for an emergency caesarean, her bi-navel baby was born under bright lights, with forceps and a vile episiotomy. They cut both cords; the baby cried. 
 The first placenta came free: beautiful, marked with the tree of life. But the Quickening Placenta entwined with Cora. It slurped back the leftover umbilicus and refused to let go.