When we pulled up to the valet at Emory, We could hardly walk. It's been less than two weeks since Chloe was born, but I was determined, despite stitches, to come to this appointment. Will's feet were numb---nerve damage from the Cisplatin. In time, they said his nerve endings would heal. We learned today, Will and I don't have much time left.

They took us to an exam room where the head nurse and Will's oncologist got straight to the point:  "The treatment did not work. The cancer has actually spread. The initial scans did show it regressed, but then it got stronger and broke through treatment. There's evidence it may be in your spinal cord. I'm sorry. You have 4-6 weeks to live. (pause) There is another chemotherapy that would strictly be palliative. Even if it worked, it would buy you another 4 months, maximum. If I were you, I would get my affairs in order, say what you need to say."

That was it. Word for word. Will was sitting, hunched over and defeated on the exam table. He had not even taken off his brown leather jacket. I was paralyzed, taking in the information and my heart was breaking at the sound of Will's plaintive "no" over and over again. Softly, "no. no. no".

I want to take the cancer and have it be mine. He would be the better parent, not I. Chloe would grow up with his smile and laugh. Telling his jokes. Sharing his passion for travel and politics. She could know me through stories from our friends who would lighten my workaholic nature and emphasize my professional success. But there was hardly in my mind a single, soulful, deep or penetrating thing about me as her mother. I was the incubator for a man who would love her so much better. Not more. Just better. I am the one who deserves to die. Not this man. Will would be an amazing father. I would be only as good a mother as I can. God was not giving me a pass on this. There has to be another way.

When we arrived home, my mother was standing in the foyer. She pressed her hands together in that posture of hope. I told her the cancer was back. I told her the doctors said Will was going to die. She did not reach out for me. She stood there and turned to Will, but could not find the words.