Ten days pass with agonizing slowness and I think I’m going to lose my mind.
On the morning of the eleventh day I just sit in my bed, staring passively at the tv, flicking through the channels and not even caring what comes on. I’ve seen it all, anyway.
It’s not that I haven’t tried to keep busy in bed. In fact, I’ve tried everything. I’ve sent email after email to all of the aid organizations I can think of, asking if there’s any way that I can help from home. They all came back with pleasant congratulations and urges for me to concentrate on my improved health. I scowled at each one of them as I deleted them and silently wondered if Sinclair had anything to do with it, just a quiet word to each of the organization heads that I wasn’t to be engaged until after the birth of my child.
Wh
