“Yes,” Susan replied. “I also have manners.”
The door closed between them.
Inside the operating room, our daughter began crying again. It was a strong, angry cry, as though she had already decided she would not enter the world quietly merely because someone found her existence inconvenient.
The nurse carried her toward me.
“Would you like to meet your daughter?”
I looked at Natalie.
She nodded through her tears.
The baby was placed against her chest beside her brother. Natalie studied both children with an expression I will never forget. She did not see a mystery, accusation, or scandal. She saw the babies she had carried through months of fear.
“Hello, my loves,” she whispered. “I’m your mommy.”
I placed one hand across all three of them.
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