For a few seconds after my mother said she could not congratulate me for “defying God’s will,” no one moved.

the streets of Puebla while I sat beside him with both hands over my belly. Eleven weeks. Still early. Still fragile. Every doctor had told me to reduce stress. No lifting. No panic. No emotional shocks if possible. They said it gently, as if life could be scheduled around medical advice.

Halfway home, my phone began to vibrate.

First one message.