I Went Into Labor Alone at 3 A.M. — The Stranger Driving My Taxi Became Family

By the time my mother died, something inside me had already gone quiet. She was my anchor—my first call, my safest place, the person I believed would still be there no matter what. I was nine months pregnant when we buried her. I remember standing by her grave, one hand resting on my swollen belly, thinking, At least I’m not completely alone. I still have my family.

I was wrong.