The sky had gone dark early, thunder rolling in the distance. James drove her to the hospital with one hand on the wheel, the other gripping hers tightly. Labor was long. Hours blurred into each other, marked only by monitors beeping and nurses murmuring reassurances. When the pain became unbearable, the world faded. She heard voices, felt hands, and then, nothing.
When she woke, the room was dim. Her body felt hollow, heavy, the ache of something monumental just passed. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Then she heard it, a soft cry, small and perfect. She turned her head. James was standing by the crib. His back was to her. The baby’s cry quieted, replaced by the sound of rain against the window.