You know that feeling when you finally have a moment to yourself — the kids are asleep, the house is quiet, maybe it’s 2:17 AM and the only light is from your phone — and suddenly your stomach just CLENCHES? Like a fist squeezing your insides. For years, I told myself it was the coffee. Or the stress. Definitely the stress. Three small children, all with their own demands, their little school plays and parent-teacher conferences. Always something. I’d schedule a doctor’s appointment, jot it down in my old paper planner — Wednesdays at 10 AM, Dr. Evans, primary care. And then, without fail, little Michael would have a field trip permission slip due that same morning, or Sarah needed help with her diorama of the solar system, and well, what was a little indigestion compared to a child’s educational future? I’d call to reschedule, of course. “It’s just a bit of a tummy ache,” I’d say, almost convincing myself. “Probably just too much caffeine.” (Four cups before noon, sometimes five, just to keep up with the freelance graphic design deadlines after they were all tucked in.) The cramps would come and go. Sometimes a dull ache, sometimes a sharp, seizing pain that would double me over for a minute or two. I remember once, it hit me right before Emily’s winter concert. I was backstage, helping her tie her shoe, and the world just went white for a second. I told myself it was the fluorescent lights. Or hunger. I probably hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day. Looking back, you see things with such painful clarity, don’t you? The endless list of reasons, always so compelling in the moment. The school bake sales, the art projects that absolutely *had* to be finished by 7 AM. My client work, always precarious, always needing my full attention to make sure the next invoice would clear. (No sick days when you’re a gig worker, no benefits, nothing.) It was never enough to just *be*. You had to *do*. And you had to do it all for them. And the little pains? They were just… part of the background noise. A low hum, easy to ignore when the symphony of childhood demands was playing so loud. And now… now I find myself wondering what would have happened if I’d just kept that appointment. Just one.