My husband called me at 2:06 in the morning and told me to get dressed and come to the hospital.
Twenty minutes later, I walked into the maternity ward and saw him standing there with a newborn baby girl in his arms.
I stopped in the middle of the hallway.
For twenty-two years, Michael and I had been married.
For twenty-two years, we had raised three sons together.
And throughout all those years, I had carried one quiet dream in my heart.
I had always wanted a daughter.
Now my husband was standing in front of me holding a tiny baby girl.
I just didn’t know she was about to change everything I thought I knew about my own life.
At 2:06 a.m., my phone rang.
The name on the screen was Michael.
I immediately knew something was wrong.
He had left the house several hours earlier after telling me that one of his coworkers had been taken to the hospital.
I had assumed he would be back before morning.
Instead, his voice sounded different when I answered.
“Get dressed and come to St. Joseph’s.”
I sat up in bed.
“What happened?”
“No one is hurt,” he said quickly.
“Then what is it?”
There was a pause.
“Just… please come.”
Something about the way he said those words made my stomach tighten.