My Last Wish

The day I caught my husband, McCoy, cheating, my postpartum depression took a turn for the worse.

It was the 99th time I’d tried to swallow a bottle of pills.

Our baby wailed hysterically in his stroller.

My best friend, Raleigh, grabbed and desperately forced the pills out of my mouth.

McCoy scooped me into his arms and rushed me to the ER, guilt written all over his face when he said, “Just make it through one more day, Moira. For each day you survive, write down one wish.

“When you get better, I’ll make every one of them come true.”