![\"\"](\"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Pregnant_woman_in_pain_202607302212-2-572x1024.jpeg\")
<\/figure>\n\n\n\nEven then, I gave his number.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That is the part I still hate about myself sometimes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A person can abandon you, and your first instinct can still be to reach for them because love has muscle memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The nurse called him from the desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She called again from the ER phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I called once more with my own phone because fear had made me foolish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Voicemail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By 7:18 p.m., emergency C-section was no longer a possibility.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was the plan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The doctor leaned over me and spoke with careful urgency.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I heard words like placenta, distress, pressure, operating room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I understood some of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The rest turned into noise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhere is my husband?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No one answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Frank was still there near the edge of the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He squeezed my shoulder and said, \u201cWe\u2019re right here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was the last thing I heard clearly before the operating room swallowed me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bright lights above.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Masks over faces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gloved hands moving fast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My own voice breaking as I begged someone to save my baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then the world went white.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I woke up, my throat was dry and my whole body felt like it had been taken apart and placed back together with trembling hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A nurse was beside me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her name tag said Marisol.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember that because she was the first person who smiled at me without wanting anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re awake,\u201d she said softly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My hand moved before my mouth did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It went to my stomach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Flat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not completely, but no longer full.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My eyes went wild.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe baby,\u201d I tried to say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Marisol leaned closer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour baby is alive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There are sentences that rebuild the world in one breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was one of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I cried so hard the stitches pulled, and Marisol had to remind me to breathe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My daughter was tiny.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Too tiny for the daydreams I had been carrying around for months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was in an incubator under soft hospital light, with wires and monitors making little sounds beside her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But she was here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was breathing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She had a small mouth, a stubborn chin, and one fist curled near her face like she had arrived ready to fight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I named her Grace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not because the day had been graceful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because she was the only grace in it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron did not come that night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He did not come the next morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He did not answer the hospital calls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He did not answer mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A text came from Pamela at 10:26 a.m. the next day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It said, \u201cCameron is exhausted. You caused a scene last night. Let him rest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stared at those words for a long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I handed the phone to Marisol because my hands had started shaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela had always been careful with cruelty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She wrapped it in concern.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She made it sound like advice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During our engagement, she told me marriage required a woman to \u201cunderstand a man\u2019s loyalties.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At my baby shower, she corrected the way I folded a blanket in front of everyone and said Cameron had always needed someone organized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the doctor warned us about my blood pressure, she told Cameron over speakerphone not to let me become \u201cone of those women who turns pregnancy into a personality.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I heard it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He heard it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He said nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Silence is not neutral when someone is being diminished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Silence chooses a side and pretends it has clean hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the second day, the hospital social worker stopped by my room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was kind but direct.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She asked whether I felt safe at home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted to say yes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The word was waiting on my tongue because saying no would make everything real.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead, I looked at the hospital wristband on my arm and the printed call log folded on my tray table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Five outgoing calls to Cameron.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two calls from the nurses\u2019 station.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One voicemail timestamped 7:03 p.m.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A hospital intake form that listed my spouse as unreachable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A discharge summary that said emergency C-section.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Documents can be cruel in their honesty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They do not care how charming a man is at dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They do not care how his mother explains him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They simply hold the time, the action, and the absence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I told the social worker the truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy husband left me in labor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She did not gasp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She did not look shocked in the theatrical way people sometimes do when they want to prove they are good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She just nodded once and asked if I wanted help making a plan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was when something inside me steadied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not healed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not calm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Steadied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A plan is not revenge when the alternative is returning to the person who abandoned you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is a handrail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With help, I documented everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The call log.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The voicemail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hospital intake notes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The discharge folder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The nurse\u2019s record of unsuccessful contact attempts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The 911 timestamp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Frank\u2019s name on the emergency response record.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saved Pamela\u2019s text.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saved every unanswered message.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I did not write a speech.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I did not call Cameron\u2019s friends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I did not post anything online.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I packed only what mattered when I was strong enough to stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A small bag for Grace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A folder for the documents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My phone charger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother\u2019s necklace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The baby blanket I had bought with my own paycheck because Pamela said the one from her side of the family was \u201cmore appropriate.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Marisol walked me through the discharge instructions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She showed me how to move without pulling the incision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She placed Grace\u2019s tiny hat into my bag like it was something sacred.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before I left, she touched my shoulder and said, \u201cYou don\u2019t have to decide everything today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I had already decided one thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron would not be welcomed home to a wife who had learned nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two days after he left me bleeding on the kitchen floor, Cameron returned to the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was not upstairs resting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was not waiting in bed with Grace in my arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Grace was safe with me, away from that front door, away from the man who had treated her birth like an inconvenience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron pulled into the driveway sometime after noon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saw him from the hallway window because I had asked a neighbor to text me when his car came around the corner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked relaxed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was the part that stunned me all over again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He walked up the driveway with his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, as if he had been away on business instead of missing the emergency birth of his child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had a paper coffee cup in one hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe he had decided I would be emotional but manageable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe he imagined I would cry, and he would tell me I had scared him, and somehow the whole thing would twist until I was comforting him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He opened the front door like a man returning to a life that still belonged to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The house was quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Too quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The broken glass had been cleaned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The kitchen smelled faintly of lemon cleaner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The framed wedding photo in the hallway was still crooked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela\u2019s birthday gift sat untouched on the entry table, the silver ribbon slightly crushed from where my hand had gripped it during a contraction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then Cameron saw the coffee table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had placed everything there with care.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hospital discharge folder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The wristband from my arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The printed call log.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A copy of the intake note that said spouse unreachable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The 911 incident number written on the corner of a form.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The little knit hospital hat Grace had worn for exactly one photo before the nurse changed it because she was too small.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron\u2019s smile disappeared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The color drained from his face so fast it was almost frightening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His keys slipped from his hand and struck the hardwood floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He stared at the papers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he dropped to his knees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSienna?\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His voice was not angry now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was worse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was afraid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He crawled one hand forward over the floor, then stopped before touching the folder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe some part of him understood that evidence is different from accusation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Accusation can be argued with.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Evidence waits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Behind him, the door opened wider.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela stepped in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Of course she had come with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was still wearing the soft cardigan she wore to lunches where she wanted people to call her elegant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her eyes moved from Cameron on the floor to the coffee table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For once, she did not speak first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the edge of the folder was a sealed envelope from the hospital intake desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron\u2019s full name was written across the front in blue ink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He reached for it with shaking fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela\u2019s face tightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat is this?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He opened it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Inside was not a dramatic letter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was not a threat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was the clean, official summary of what he had missed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Admission time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Emergency procedure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Unreachable spouse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Neonatal observation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Social work referral.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Image<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A list of discharge instructions for the mother he had left and the baby he had not bothered to ask about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron read the first page.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His mouth opened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No sound came out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela grabbed the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stepped out from the hallway then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was wearing hospital slippers because bending down to put on real shoes still hurt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My hair was pulled back badly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My face was pale.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was a line from the hospital bracelet still pressed into my skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I was standing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron looked at me as if he had never seen me before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSienna,\u201d he said. \u201cWhere is the baby?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was the first question that should have come two days earlier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I let the silence sit long enough for him to feel it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I said, \u201cSafe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His eyes filled with panic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOur baby?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOur daughter,\u201d I said. \u201cHer name is Grace.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela made a sound like she had been struck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou named her without him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I turned my head toward her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old Sienna would have explained.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She would have softened the truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She would have said she was sorry even while still bleeding through bandages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That woman did not answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The woman standing in the hallway did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI named her with the people who were there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela\u2019s mouth closed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron tried to stand too quickly and nearly fell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI was at Mom\u2019s dinner,\u201d he said, as if that explained anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe needed me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo did we.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked down at the papers again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI thought you were exaggerating.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou thought your mother\u2019s birthday mattered more than your wife\u2019s blood pressure, more than my pain, more than your child.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not fair.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The sentence came out automatically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was standing in front of a call log and a hospital folder, and he wanted fairness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela stepped forward, recovering just enough to become herself again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSienna, this is an emotional time. You shouldn\u2019t make decisions while you\u2019re upset.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at her hand, still gripping the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou texted me that he was exhausted.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her face changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron looked at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I picked up my phone from the hall table and turned the screen toward him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The message was still there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron is exhausted. You caused a scene last night. Let him rest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He read it once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something in his face shifted, but not enough to save him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMom,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela lifted her chin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know it was that serious.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cYou didn\u2019t care if it was.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nobody spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The refrigerator hummed in the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The same ordinary sound from the moment the glass fell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The house had come full circle, but I had not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron reached toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stepped back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That small movement broke him more than shouting would have.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSienna, please,\u201d he said. \u201cLet me see her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou can talk to me through the plan the hospital social worker helped me write down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His face went blank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat plan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe one for Grace\u2019s safety and mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela\u2019s eyes sharpened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou are not keeping his child from him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at her for a long moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I held up the folder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis is not about punishment. This is about what happened when I needed him and he chose a birthday cake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The words landed hard because they were plain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was no performance in them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No screaming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Just the record of a choice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron sank back onto the edge of the couch and covered his mouth with both hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For the first time since I had known him, he looked small.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela looked at him, waiting for him to defend her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He did not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That silence was the first honest thing he had given me in days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I took the birthday gift from the entry table and placed it beside Pamela.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The ribbon dragged across the wood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou can take this with you,\u201d I said. \u201cIt was wrapped before I understood what this family thought a woman\u2019s pain was worth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She stared at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For years, Pamela had known exactly how to make me feel dramatic, selfish, too sensitive, too needy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In that living room, surrounded by hospital papers and the proof of unanswered calls, her old tricks had nowhere to stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron started crying then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not loudly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not beautifully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Just a broken, embarrassed sound into his hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I did not comfort him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That may sound cruel to someone who has never been abandoned at the edge of danger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But some tears are not grief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Some tears are a person realizing the story can no longer be edited in their favor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He asked again to see Grace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I told him not today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I told him there would be boundaries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I told him the discharge papers, call logs, and intake notes had all been copied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I told him that if he wanted to be a father, he could begin by telling the truth about the night she was born.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I already knew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pamela picked up her birthday gift with stiff hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cameron did not move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When they finally left, the front door closed softly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That almost made me cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not because I wanted him to stay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because two days earlier, that same door had slammed behind him while I was bleeding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now it closed like even the house knew something had changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I locked it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I went to the small bassinet in the next room, where Grace was sleeping under the blanket I had bought myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her tiny fist rested near her cheek.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her breathing was light but steady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sat beside her and let my hand hover over her chest, counting each rise and fall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old Sienna would have wondered whether she had been too harsh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The new one looked at her daughter and understood that kindness without self-respect is just another room people learn to leave you in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My husband had told me waiting a couple of hours would not kill me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was wrong in more ways than one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It did not kill me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But it did kill the version of me who would have let him come home smiling.\u200b<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The first contraction hit while I was standing in the kitchen with a glass of water in my hand. It was such a simple moment before it became the dividing … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8565","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-trending-story"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8565","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8565"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8565\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8567,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8565\/revisions\/8567"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8565"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8565"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8565"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}