TWO TO THREE
When I became pregnant, Cord asked me to marry him.
To me, I was married to him the minute we met.
I, that is the me who was born the day of the disaster, had never been married. This name I wore, had never been married.
This woman, called Angel, did not pause. I said yes as he got on one knee.
We married at the Registrar’s Office, amid our friends, and had the wedding reception at the bar where Firefighters hung out. His friends were my friends, there were no strange faces. The people we worked with were there.
I grabbed his last name with joy; at that moment I felt I truly existed.
I, the I who was born the day of the disaster truly existed.
I was moved from the truck to the station in my fifth month if pregnancy. I worked until the onset of labour. I was driven to the hospital by our own ambulance. The crew was with me. Cord was with me.
The pain was not unknown, the time between the first and birth was only four and a half hours.
I had the baby, a sweet little boy, we would name Robert.
We took two weeks leave. Home together, in the house of Myra, who had been married to Bob, who died a hero. We named the baby after him.