"The day after tomorrow, this will all be over. I will stop being sick, I will no longer be a whale. I will be able to touch my toes again. Heck, I'll be able to see my toes again.
"I'll have a tiny body to care for. I will no longer be a me, but an us. I was an us once, but now I'm a me. But the day after tomorrow, I will be an us again. I will be stop being sick. Did I mention that? Maybe. I will be able to look at food without retching. I will walk into a kitchen and savour the smell, not rush out searching for something, anything, to be sick into. The day after tomorrow, I will have energy again. I will sleep. My baby will sleep. I will get used to another set of lungs breathing the same air as me. I will lie awake and listen for tiny breaths. I will feel love like I never have before.
"The day after tomorrow, I will be complete. I will find the part of my soul that has been missing since he left."
That's what I thought the day before yesterday. Today I have nothing but an empty crib and an empty soul.