She struggles to catch her breath as the doctor passes over her newborn baby boy. He is wailing so angrily that he is having trouble catching his breath too. His dark skin is mottled and flushed, though he has been rubbed clean and dried. She gazes down at her son, her first child, the newest piece of her heart. Already she can feel the worry blooming in her chest and spreading to her gut. Will he grow up strong? Not just physically, but in mind and spirit as well? She knows a broken heart is just a part of life, but how will her baby respond when it eventually happens to him? She whispers his name and rubs her nose along his forehead. Even without talcum powder, or the no-tears shampoo she has in the bathtub at home, he already smells like a baby, pure and sweet. He sucks in a breath of hospital air and stops crying, gazing up at her with eyes just like her own. He may not have anyone in his life that she will let him call “daddy” but she already knows she would lay her life on the line for him without a moments hesitation. She hopes that’s enough. She hopes that will at least partially compensate for the current and maybe permanent lack of a male father figure. But she doesn’t know. She smiles at him through the tears falling down her cheeks. Will he ever love her as much as she already loves him? Will she be able to keep him safe? Will he forgive her for the mistakes she knows she will probably eventually make, no matter how hard she tries to be perfect? What will his voice sound like, when he speaks his first word? Will he have his father’s nose? So many questions; so many unknowns. So much to discover about her new favourite person. She can't wait to start the rest of their life together.

She stands in front of the Holocaust exhibit reading about the last hours of a girl not much older than her youngest sister. She’s thankful that her sister will get to live to be older than that.

He places his large, off-white paw on the ice, gingerly testing it to make sure its thick enough to support his furry body before putting all his weight down.

She walks across the graduation stage to collect her medical degree. She counts her blessings that she lives during a time where she is allowed – encouraged, even – to get a doctorate.

He sits at the kitchen table, head in his hands, tears falling on the large pile of bills that he can’t afford to pay this month. It’s a choice between heat or groceries.

She swallows her daily morning Pill, thankful that she is able to date the boy she loves without having to worry about having children. She hasn’t yet decided if she’s ready to bring kids into this world.

He looks down at the test results and lets out a curse. The damn cancer is back, after five full years out from under its cloying shadow. It seems like everyone he knows is sick with something or other these days.

The screens never go dark; information is everywhere; people are born who years ago might never have been conceived.

Life won’t stop; life will change, but life will go on. Love will always last forever.