Doctors rushed Emma into surgery within minutes.
Placental abruption.
Emergency C-section.
No guarantees.
I sat outside the operating room for nearly five hours.
My hands were stained with dried blood.
The only words I could repeat were:
“Please let them both survive.”
Finally…
The obstetrician walked toward me.
Mrs. Brooks is stable.”
I nearly collapsed from relief.
“Our son was born premature.”
“He weighs just over four pounds.”
“He’s in the neonatal intensive care unit.”
Start Baby Registry
“But…”
She smiled gently.
“You got here in time.”
I broke down right there in the hallway.
Several hours later, Emma finally woke up.
Her voice was weak.
“There’s… something I need you to get.”
She looked toward the window where our tiny son lay inside an incubator.
“In the baby’s nursery.”
“Inside the closet.”
“There’s a canvas bag.”
“Bring it.”
I drove home immediately.
The bag was exactly where she’d described.
