Sometimes he simply sat there smiling.
“You two are my whole world,” he often whispered.
I never had any reason to doubt him.
Most of the pregnancy went smoothly.
Then labor began.
Twenty-one exhausting hours later, the hospital room had become a blur of monitors, nurses, voices, and constant movement.
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Suddenly, one of the machines began sounding an alert.
A nurse rushed toward my bed.
Another immediately called for the doctor.
Daniel stood.
“What’s wrong?”
Nobody gave him a clear answer.
One of the staff members gently moved him farther from the bed.
“Sir, we need some room.”
“Is my wife okay?”
He looked desperately between me and the medical team.
“Please. Just make sure they’re both okay.”
After that, my memories became scattered.
Bright lights.
Urgent voices.
People moving around me.
And then darkness.
At 3:17 that afternoon, our daughter Emily was born.
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