Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT SOPHIE ARRIVED EARLY
At thirty weeks, I woke to a sharp pain.
Then another.
A nurse checked the monitor.
Her expression changed.
Within minutes, Dr. Ellis arrived.
The room filled with quiet urgency.
I was having contractions.
The doctors evaluated me and the baby, adjusted my treatment, and explained the possibility of premature delivery.
Maya arrived with her hair still wet from the shower.
She grabbed my hand.
"Em?"
I tried to smile.
"Looks like Sophie's impatient."
But I was terrified.
I had imagined giving birth in a bright hospital room with Ryan holding my hand.
I had imagined him crying when he heard our daughter's first scream.
I had imagined us becoming a family.
Now I was lying beneath fluorescent lights, surrounded by machines, praying my daughter would survive.
The medical team continued monitoring us.
When signs of fetal distress developed, Dr. Ellis explained that an urgent cesarean delivery was the safest option.
I signed the consent forms with shaking hands.
Maya leaned close.
"I'm here."
I looked at her.
"Promise me something."
Her eyes filled.
"Anything."
"If something happens—"
"Emily."
"Please."
She squeezed my hand.
"I'll take care of Sophie."
I nodded.
Then the doctors took me into surgery.
I remember bright lights.
Calm voices.
The pressure of someone's hand against mine.
And then, after what felt like forever, a sound.
Small.
Faint.
But unmistakable.
A baby's cry.
I began sobbing.
"Is she okay?"
A nurse leaned close.
"Your daughter is here. The neonatal team is taking care of her."
I closed my eyes.
Sophie.
My little girl.
May you like
She had arrived early.
But she was alive.
