i have spent 19 days in the hospital. i still have a few more to go until the birth of my son. i have a room to myself. in it occupies a bathroom, a pull out bed for braxton, a television, exam gloves and a monitor. i have a big window to the right of my bed where the sun pours in as it rises around 7 a.m. and sets around 5 p.m. i have a view of 60-some apartment balconies. one of them has red lights strung along the guardrail. another close by building is constantly releasing a dense, white fog that i mistake for snow or clouds. sometimes i sit in the recliner for a change in scenery and texture, i get really frustrated and antsy by being in the bed for too long. i like to start the day by making my bed, folding the blankets, and then i walk to the bathroom to brush my hair. this may be the loneliest i have ever felt. the silence here is almost deafening; sometimes i catch myself daydreaming, remembering all the days i took fresh air for granted or listening to the business of the outside world. it truly is isolating. i make playlists to pass the time, and i recently downloaded e-books from my local library. despite how much i try to distract myself, i worry deeply- for my health, my baby's health, forcing my body to induce labor when it is not ready to, and for the first time at that; i am terrified. i mourn the way i thought my first pregnancy would go, my first experience with motherhood is that of so many others, uncertain and frightening. i am powerless in how the future will unfold and all i can do is muster up the energy to look out the window.