I hear the rest of her sentence, unsaid words like knives of ice. A few minutes later, and it would’ve been over,Lifetakes: Close Calls,I hear the rest of her sentence, unsaid words like knives of ice. A few minutes later, and it would’ve been over
Delivery room, lit softly with the early dawn, clear bassinet lined with that ubiquitous green-on-white receiving blanket, new father leaning over, face suffused with happiness. And a baby, of course, tiny, velvet skin, perfect.
I sit on the bed, away from the glow of the moment, shaking.
“It’s a miracle you came in when you did,” a chatty nurse tells me, patting my arm. She doesn’t say any more, but I hear the rest of her sentence, unsaid words like knives of ice. A few minutes later, and it would’ve been over.
Nobody knows exactly what happened. But shortly after checking in, monitors were suddenly protesting, doctors converging. A few minutes of panic and agony. Then, a baby.
Create a free account to keep reading.
