{"id":6695,"date":"2026-03-02T07:48:26","date_gmt":"2026-03-02T07:48:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695"},"modified":"2026-03-02T07:48:26","modified_gmt":"2026-03-02T07:48:26","slug":"it-was-pouring-rain-the-night-i-hit-nine-months-and-my-mother-in-law-shoved-me-outside-anyway-go-stand-in-the-weather-if-you-want-to-be-dramatic-she-spat-as-the-door-slamme","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695","title":{"rendered":"It was pouring rain the night I hit nine months, and my mother-in-law shoved me outside anyway\u2014\u201cGo stand in the weather if you want to be dramatic,\u201d she spat as the door slammed. I showed up at the hospital soaked, shaking, and done. While I waited to be admitted, I signed the paperwork to separate my records and protect my baby\u2019s documents. Hours later, she arrived breathless, demanding, \u201cWhere\u2019s my grandchild?\u201d The nurse didn\u2019t even blink: \u201cYou\u2019re not on the approved list.\u201d And that\u2019s when she realized she\u2019d lost access for good."},"content":{"rendered":"

The rain started as a drizzle and turned into a full-downpour by the time my mother-in-law Cynthia Morgan<\/strong> decided she\u2019d had enough of me \u201ctaking up space.\u201d I was nine months pregnant, my belly tight and heavy, my legs swollen, my breath shallow from the pressure under my ribs. I stood in the hallway with my overnight bag and my hospital folder pressed to my chest like armor.<\/p>\n

Cynthia opened the front door and pointed outside.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo,\u201d she said flatly. \u201cIf you want to be dramatic, be dramatic somewhere else.\u201d<\/p>\n

My husband Evan<\/strong> hovered behind her, silent, staring at the floor like it might save him from choosing sides. I looked at him, waiting for one sentence. One ounce of courage.<\/p>\n

\u201cEvan,\u201d I whispered. \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n

He rubbed his jaw, eyes darting anywhere but mine. \u201cKayla\u2026 just cool off. We\u2019ll talk tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tomorrow. Like pregnancy waited. Like storms paused. Like I could \u201ccool off\u201d when my body was already working overtime just to stay upright.<\/p>\n

Another cramp rolled through me\u2014tight, low, warning. I inhaled sharply.<\/p>\n

Cynthia saw it and didn\u2019t soften. \u201cThere she goes,\u201d she scoffed. \u201cAlways performing.\u201d<\/p>\n

The door shut behind me with a thud that felt final.<\/p>\n

Outside, the cold rain soaked through my hoodie in seconds. Water ran down my face like tears I refused to give her. I stood on the porch for one shaky breath, then forced my feet to move. My phone screen was slick in my hand as I called a rideshare. My fingers trembled so badly I had to try three times.<\/p>\n

By the time the car arrived, my shoes squished with each step. I slid into the back seat, shaking. The driver glanced at me in the mirror and his expression changed\u2014concern, not judgment.<\/p>\n

\u201cHospital?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. \u201cYes. Please.\u201d<\/p>\n

At admissions, the nurse took one look at my soaked hair and swollen hands and guided me to a chair. \u201cHoney,\u201d she said gently, \u201care you safe at home?\u201d<\/p>\n

I hesitated. My pride wanted to say yes. My survival said no.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026 don\u2019t think so,\u201d I admitted.<\/p>\n

They checked my blood pressure\u2014high. They asked about stress. They asked who would be supporting me.<\/p>\n

I told the truth. \u201cNo one from that house.\u201d<\/p>\n

The social worker on call, Monica<\/strong>, came in with a clipboard and warm eyes that didn\u2019t pity me. She said, \u201cWe can help you make a plan. We can document what happened. We can also set visitor restrictions.\u201d<\/p>\n

My throat tightened. \u201cCan I do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Monica nodded. \u201cYes. You\u2019re the patient. You decide.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she asked, \u201cDo you have your paperwork for the baby? Insurance, ID, anything you want protected?\u201d<\/p>\n

I pulled my damp folder from my bag and held it like it was my last lifeline. \u201cI have most of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monica\u2019s eyes sharpened. \u201cWe can help you secure it. And if you want to separate your records from your spouse\u2019s household, we can start those forms now.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at the pen she handed me. My contractions were irregular, but my mind was suddenly crystal clear.<\/p>\n

I signed.<\/p>\n

Name. Date. Initials.<\/p>\n

It felt like stepping out of a cage.<\/p>\n

And just as I finished the last line, my phone buzzed.<\/p>\n

A text from Evan: Mom\u2019s upset. Why are you making this so hard?<\/em><\/p>\n

My hands shook\u2014not with fear this time, but fury.<\/p>\n

Then another message popped up.<\/p>\n

Cynthia is on her way to the hospital. Don\u2019t embarrass us.<\/em><\/p>\n

I looked up at Monica, then down at my signature, and I realized the night wasn\u2019t done.<\/p>\n

Because Cynthia wasn\u2019t coming to apologize.<\/p>\n

She was coming to claim something she thought belonged to her.<\/p>\n

Part 2<\/h2>\n

They admitted me for monitoring and moved me into a room where the air smelled clean and quiet. A nurse brought me warm blankets and water. Monica returned with a small lockable envelope and said, \u201cPut your important documents here. We\u2019ll keep it secured in your chart area.\u201d<\/p>\n

I slid my ID, insurance cards, and baby paperwork inside with hands that still trembled from the cold. The simple act felt rebellious\u2014like I was taking back pieces of myself Cynthia had treated as property.<\/p>\n

Monica lowered her voice. \u201cDo you want your mother-in-law on the restricted list?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said instantly. \u201cAnd\u2026 I want it documented that she forced me out in bad weather while I\u2019m nine months pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monica\u2019s expression tightened. \u201cWe\u2019ll document it.\u201d<\/p>\n

My phone buzzed again. Evan this time, calling. I stared at the screen until it stopped.<\/p>\n

A nurse, Rachel<\/strong>, adjusted my monitors and asked softly, \u201cDo you want us to block calls too?\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed. \u201cJust\u2026 don\u2019t let her in.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel nodded. \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Two hours later, I heard the commotion before anyone said her name. Fast footsteps. A loud voice in the hall. A tone that demanded obedience like it was a right.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m the grandmother,\u201d Cynthia barked. \u201cWhere is she? Where is my grandchild?\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel stepped out to intercept. I could hear her calm voice: \u201cMa\u2019am, you need to lower your voice. This is a patient care area.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cynthia laughed. \u201cOh please. Don\u2019t act like I\u2019m a stranger. I\u2019m family.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel replied, still even. \u201cThe patient has set visitation restrictions.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cynthia\u2019s voice sharpened. \u201cShe can\u2019t do that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monica appeared at my door a moment later, her face composed. \u201cShe\u2019s here,\u201d Monica said quietly. \u201cSecurity is on standby.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach tightened, not from contractions\u2014this was something else, a familiar dread trying to climb back into my chest. I forced my breath to slow. \u201cI don\u2019t want to see her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou won\u2019t,\u201d Monica said. \u201cBut she\u2019s insisting. If you\u2019d like, we can have her informed formally.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cFormally.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monica stepped into the hallway. I couldn\u2019t see Cynthia\u2019s face, but I could hear every syllable she fired like bullets.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s unstable,\u201d Cynthia said. \u201cShe\u2019s trying to punish my son.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monica\u2019s voice stayed calm. \u201cKayla is a patient in our care. She arrived alone, soaked from the rain, and reported feeling unsafe. Her request stands.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cynthia scoffed. \u201cShe\u2019s lying.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel answered this time, firm. \u201cMa\u2019am, please step back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cynthia\u2019s voice rose. \u201cLet me in! I need to see my grandbaby!\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel\u2019s reply was sharp but professional. \u201cThere is no baby to see yet. And you are not on the approved list.\u201d<\/p>\n

A beat of silence\u2014then Cynthia exploded.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is Evan\u2019s child,\u201d she shouted. \u201cHe has rights!\u201d<\/p>\n

Monica didn\u2019t argue with emotion. She argued with policy. \u201cThe patient decides who visits during labor. If Evan wants to discuss his role, he can do so respectfully and separately. But you will not enter this unit today.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cynthia tried a different angle\u2014sweetness. \u201cKayla, honey,\u201d she called out, loud enough to reach my door. \u201cI brought you dry clothes. I didn\u2019t mean it.\u201d<\/p>\n

My fingers curled into the blanket. My entire body remembered her pointing into the rain, her smile, Evan\u2019s silence.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

Rachel walked back in and asked quietly, \u201cDo you want us to tell her you\u2019re declining contact?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said, my voice steady. \u201cTell her no.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel nodded, then stepped out.<\/p>\n

A minute later, Cynthia\u2019s voice cut through the hallway one last time, furious and stunned:<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t keep my family from me.\u201d<\/p>\n

And Rachel replied, calm and final:<\/p>\n

\u201cWatch us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Part 3<\/h2>\n

After Cynthia was escorted away from the unit, the hallway quieted like someone turned the volume down on my entire life. I lay back against the pillow, shaking\u2014not from fear anymore, but from the strange relief of being protected by rules Cynthia couldn\u2019t bully.<\/p>\n

Rachel came in with a small smile. \u201cShe\u2019s gone,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd she won\u2019t be back tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

I exhaled a breath I didn\u2019t realize I was holding. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monica pulled a chair close. \u201cKayla,\u201d she said softly, \u201cwe should talk about your discharge plan. You mentioned you don\u2019t feel safe going back.\u201d<\/p>\n

My throat tightened. I thought of that porch. The rain. Evan\u2019s text telling me not to \u201cembarrass\u201d them.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not going back,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Monica nodded. \u201cDo you have a safe place? Friend? Family?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy sister,\u201d I said. \u201cShe lives forty minutes away.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d Monica replied. \u201cWe can arrange for her to pick you up. We can also give you a document outlining the visitor restriction and the incident note, in case you need support later.\u201d<\/p>\n

A contraction rolled through me, stronger this time. My monitors beeped. Rachel checked the readings and said, \u201cYour labor is progressing.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed hard. \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan finally arrived at 1:30 a.m., breathless, hair damp from the rain like he\u2019d been running. He looked around the room, confused and irritated. \u201cWhere\u2019s my mom?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n

I stared at him. \u201cNot here.\u201d<\/p>\n

His face tightened. \u201cKayla, you can\u2019t just ban my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can,\u201d I said quietly. \u201cI\u2019m the patient.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan\u2019s eyes flicked to the lockable envelope near my chart. \u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy documents,\u201d I answered. \u201cBaby\u2019s paperwork. My ID. Everything I\u2019m keeping safe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan\u2019s jaw clenched. \u201cWhy are you acting like I\u2019m the enemy?\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t yell. I didn\u2019t cry. I just told him the truth. \u201cBecause you watched her throw me out in the rain. And then you texted me not to embarrass you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan flinched like the words stung. \u201cI didn\u2019t think she\u2019d actually\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe did,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd you let her.\u201d<\/p>\n

He opened his mouth, but no excuse came out clean enough to survive the room.<\/p>\n

When our baby boy finally arrived a few hours later, his cry filled the air like a siren and a blessing at the same time. I sobbed with relief as they placed him on my chest. His skin was warm, his fingers curling, his tiny face scrunched like he was mad at the world already.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi,\u201d I whispered. \u201cIt\u2019s just you and me now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan\u2019s eyes softened as he looked at his son. \u201cHe\u2019s perfect,\u201d he said, voice breaking.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t argue with that. I just watched what he did next.<\/p>\n

His phone buzzed. Cynthia. Again.<\/p>\n

Evan stared at the screen, then at me. For the first time, he didn\u2019t answer immediately.<\/p>\n

\u201cKayla,\u201d he said quietly, \u201cwhat do you want me to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

I held my baby tighter. \u201cI want you to choose,\u201d I said. \u201cNot later. Not tomorrow. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan swallowed. His thumb hovered over the screen. Then he turned the phone face down and said, \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t a miracle. It wasn\u2019t forgiveness. But it was a first step\u2014and I knew I\u2019d measure him by steps, not promises.<\/p>\n

Before discharge, Monica helped finalize my separate records, my visitor restrictions, and a safety plan. My sister picked me up with dry clothes and a car seat. Evan followed behind, quieter than I\u2019d ever seen him, carrying bags like a man who finally understood that control isn\u2019t love.<\/p>\n

And Cynthia? She never got to hold my baby in that hospital. Not because I was cruel\u2014because she\u2019d proven she wasn\u2019t safe.<\/p>\n

Now I want to ask you: If you were me, would you ever allow Cynthia to see the baby after she threw you out in the rain at nine months?<\/strong> Would you require a real apology and boundaries\u2014or cut her off completely? Tell me what you\u2019d do, because I know people will have strong opinions on this one.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The rain started as a drizzle and turned into a full-downpour by the time my mother-in-law Cynthia Morgan decided she\u2019d had enough of me \u201ctaking up space.\u201d I was nine months pregnant, my belly tight and heavy, my legs swollen, my breath shallow from the pressure under my ribs. I stood in the hallway with […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":6696,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6695","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-life-new"],"yoast_head":"\nIt was pouring rain the night I hit nine months, and my mother-in-law shoved me outside anyway\u2014\u201cGo stand in the weather if you want to be dramatic,\u201d she spat as the door slammed. I showed up at the hospital soaked, shaking, and done. While I waited to be admitted, I signed the paperwork to separate my records and protect my baby\u2019s documents. Hours later, she arrived breathless, demanding, \u201cWhere\u2019s my grandchild?\u201d The nurse didn\u2019t even blink: \u201cYou\u2019re not on the approved list.\u201d And that\u2019s when she realized she\u2019d lost access for good. - True Stories<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"It was pouring rain the night I hit nine months, and my mother-in-law shoved me outside anyway\u2014\u201cGo stand in the weather if you want to be dramatic,\u201d she spat as the door slammed. I showed up at the hospital soaked, shaking, and done. While I waited to be admitted, I signed the paperwork to separate my records and protect my baby\u2019s documents. Hours later, she arrived breathless, demanding, \u201cWhere\u2019s my grandchild?\u201d The nurse didn\u2019t even blink: \u201cYou\u2019re not on the approved list.\u201d And that\u2019s when she realized she\u2019d lost access for good. - True Stories\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The rain started as a drizzle and turned into a full-downpour by the time my mother-in-law Cynthia Morgan decided she\u2019d had enough of me \u201ctaking up space.\u201d I was nine months pregnant, my belly tight and heavy, my legs swollen, my breath shallow from the pressure under my ribs. 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I showed up at the hospital soaked, shaking, and done. While I waited to be admitted, I signed the paperwork to separate my records and protect my baby\u2019s documents. 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I showed up at the hospital soaked, shaking, and done. While I waited to be admitted, I signed the paperwork to separate my records and protect my baby\u2019s documents. Hours later, she arrived breathless, demanding, \u201cWhere\u2019s my grandchild?\u201d The nurse didn\u2019t even blink: \u201cYou\u2019re not on the approved list.\u201d And that\u2019s when she realized she\u2019d lost access for good. - True Stories","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"It was pouring rain the night I hit nine months, and my mother-in-law shoved me outside anyway\u2014\u201cGo stand in the weather if you want to be dramatic,\u201d she spat as the door slammed. I showed up at the hospital soaked, shaking, and done. 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While I waited to be admitted, I signed the paperwork to separate my records and protect my baby\u2019s documents. Hours later, she arrived breathless, demanding, \u201cWhere\u2019s my grandchild?\u201d The nurse didn\u2019t even blink: \u201cYou\u2019re not on the approved list.\u201d And that\u2019s when she realized she\u2019d lost access for good. - True Stories","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/Ultrarealistic_cinematic_photo_in_a_bright_america_fd3bee8d1d-1.jpeg","datePublished":"2026-03-02T07:48:26+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/Ultrarealistic_cinematic_photo_in_a_bright_america_fd3bee8d1d-1.jpeg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/Ultrarealistic_cinematic_photo_in_a_bright_america_fd3bee8d1d-1.jpeg","width":558,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=6695#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"It was pouring rain the night I hit nine months, and my mother-in-law shoved me outside anyway\u2014\u201cGo stand in the weather if you want to be dramatic,\u201d she spat as the door slammed. I showed up at the hospital soaked, shaking, and done. While I waited to be admitted, I signed the paperwork to separate my records and protect my baby\u2019s documents. Hours later, she arrived breathless, demanding, \u201cWhere\u2019s my grandchild?\u201d The nurse didn\u2019t even blink: \u201cYou\u2019re not on the approved list.\u201d And that\u2019s when she realized she\u2019d lost access for good."}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"True Stories","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e","name":"true love","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"true love"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=2"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6695","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6695"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6695\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6697,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6695\/revisions\/6697"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/6696"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6695"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6695"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6695"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}