Twenty-six years ago
“Daniel, talk to me. Where are we going?" My tone was no longer calm. It hadn't been for the last hour. This wasn't right. “You know the doctor said I shouldn't be more than two hours from home. For God's sake, we're in Wisconsin."
I rubbed my growing midsection. It wasn't growing, but grown. At thirty-six and a half weeks, I could go into labor at any time. I'd been so distressed after my last doctor's appointment—after being blindsided the way I'd been—that the obstetrician for high-risk pregnancies ordered me on bed rest.
I had been.
All of my court cases were reassigned. I was home.
That was, until now.
Currently, I was in a rental car, riding on refreezing springtime roads, winding our way toward Madison, Wisconsin. Yet for some reason we weren't even o
