It was happening again.
Terror seized me.
Luc rushed me to the car.
And as he sped towards the hospital, I waited, wondering if the last piece I had of Kai would be taken from me, too.
•••
Faces swam in and out of my vision. I attempted to speak but couldn’t. There was the sound of rushing water in my ears, crashing waves inside my head. My back was on fire; so was my arm. Someone’s voice. Deep, resonant. I looked towards it. Saw nothing but blackness.
Eventually, I came to, feeling like a burlap sack of bones. A middle-aged nurse changed my IV bag. She had a warm smile, but tired eyes.
“What happened?” I asked. My lips were dry, chapped, and my throat parched, like I’d drunk a glass of sand.
“Your placenta ruptured.”
I tried to sit up, but the nurse put a gentle hand on my shoulder and forced me back. “My—my daughter—is she—”
“She’s healthy. The doctor did a caesarean and she came out screaming.”
Tears gurgled from deep within. They were tears of feeling everything I had ever felt all at once.
“Would you like to hold her?”
I nodded and sniffed, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. I expected the nurse to leave my room, but I was surprised when she went to a bassinet on wheels in the corner. She came back with a swaddled little package. I reached out, and she set the baby into the cradle of my arms.
My daughter was pink—ethereal—with ears the color of coral. I counted her fingers and toes, and I brought my lips to her head, which was covered in light blonde fuzz. Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks in soft fans. She was asleep and the corner of her mouth curled upward.
I finally knew what my mother had been trying to tell me. My daughter was my greatest masterpiece, and I loved her instantly. It was swift and constant, like a river bursting through a dam. All the gray leaked out of me; my heart grew, swelling to make room for the tiny thing who had become my light.
“Have you thought of a name?” the nurse, whose presence I’d momentarily forgotten, asked.
Unable to tear my eyes away from my daughter, Kai’s daughter, I nodded. Her name came to me like a whispered dream. And it was perfect. Just like she was.
There was a hand on my shoulder. I turned my head and looked into Celia’s eyes.
“She’s okay. You both are,” Celia whispered.
I swallowed, emotion clogging my throat. I stared into my child’s face—the face of unique perfection.
The nurse left us alone and we sat in silence, two women, two mothers, who understood this moment without the need for words.
•••
Thank you for reading! Season of the Sun is available for preorder on Amazon and releases March 22, 2016.
Dandelion Dreams Page 26
