The first time a piece fell off was a few days after the birth. In the morning, as I touched the floor, I saw it lying there. It pulsed like jelly and looked like a piece of brain. I stared at it for a few seconds, utterly terrified. Where had it come from? Was I falling apart?

I was holding on to reality by quietly naming objects around me and pulling the children’s names into consciousness. Was I losing my mind?

In the days that followed, more pieces came out — larger and more frequent. No longer just at night. Sometimes they stayed in my underwear until I sat down on the toilet; then they dropped into the water with the sound of a half-dead fish. Sometimes they slid down my leg and landed on the floor, pulsing like fragments of entrails.

After two weeks, I hardly dared to leave the house. Every outing turned into a ritual of controlling the fear — a choreography of paranoia and vigilance, waiting for the next piece to come out. I entered every restroom I passed, peered down into my underwear, changed pads pre-emptively. I was afraid to sit down, because the risk was greatest when I stood up again.

One afternoon in the park, while the children were playing, I rose from the bench. I felt something slide down my leg. A piece fell out and landed in the grass. There, in the sunlight, it looked like an alien from outer space.

The boy beside me shouted:

“Lady, you dropped a big jelly candy!”

I quickly pulled out a tissue and took it from his hand before anyone could see. The image of the bright red trembling lump in the grass — the boy’s voice — shook me. I felt discomfort and shame spread through me.

Later that day, in the shower, trying to wash away the feeling of dirtiness, the thought struck me — he loved me less now.

Was that why I stayed silent about the pieces falling from my body? A tear ran down my face and mixed with the water.

Was that the source of my ever-present sense of isolation? After all, this pregnancy had been his idea. Then why did it feel as if he had already left?

Maybe it wasn’t only my body that was falling apart.