My blood pressure kept climbing. At thirty-four weeks, my doctor stopped halfway through an exam and called someone from the hallway.
Everything moved too quickly after that.
Chloe arrived by emergency C-section before I fully understood what was happening.
She was tiny, determined, and beautiful.
The NICU frightened me more than I can explain. Machines beeped around her. Thin wires seemed enormous beside her small body. Every alarm made my heart stop for a second.
But the nurses kept telling me the same thing.
“She’s doing her part. You have to do yours.”
So I did.
I sold jewelry I no longer wore. I canceled streaming services, subscriptions, memberships, and anything else that wasn’t necessary. I bought cheap groceries and learned exactly how long a tank of gas could last.
Most days, I sat beside Chloe’s incubator and watched her breathe.
Sometimes I talked to her.
Sometimes I had no words left.
