I spent so much money. It didn’t matter, because soon the investment in law school would pay off tenfold with a powerful career. And, soon I found myself in a suit, in a court—defending a man that was facing 20 years in prison. I was doing just what I’d worked so hard for. Even though I lost that particular case, I was doing the trial work I was meant to do.

I remember the very moment I found out about him. I was at my parent’s house in Michigan. I was standing there looking in the same bathroom mirror that had starred back at me as every phase of life until 18 passed by. I took the test, rolling my eyes as I pictured my mother who had purchased it, believing me to be pregnant. When I looked down and saw that she was right, I looked up into that same old bathroom mirror that had watched me get bathed by my mother, learn to shave my legs, learn to put on eye-liner. This was the bathroom mirror where I would pinch my arms during adolescence and imagine how they would look if skinnier.

I looked at that mirror, and saw a woman who was carrying with her, a tiny soul, separate from her own, with individual preferences, and beliefs and legal rights.

Noah was born. Wake up, feed child, hold child, bathe child, try to sleep, wake up. Client called. Take a message. Try to sleep, wake up, feed child, swaddle him, rock the baby. Try to sleep. That blur is what I remember from the first month. But I loved that blur, like I’ve never loved before.

Client called. Take a message. Reschedule. “When are you coming back?” occasionally colleagues or friends would ask.

I’m not going back. I am staying here. I’m going to have to make money from here.