I know what it means to deny the body. My mother’s breaths contracted like labor I would not acknowledge until the pain pulled my legs apart. You pushed chemo days before she died, when she could not walk, and the midwife asked if I was afraid to push. I was. Alone, I still bled from birth when you delivered the words: precipitous decline, precipitous as my labor, meaning: time is not what we thought. If only I could forgive pushing when it was time to let go. If only we had let bodies know their own time.