8:52 A.M.

The startling cry fills the too full room, already brimming with heaving breaths and panting screams and a mother’s smile.

The baby, a girl, a 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭, screams her newborn life for the world to hear, echoing in the room, in her heart.

She’s small and squealing and perfect, eyes already scrunched closed with the exhaustion of surviving.

It’s 8:52 A.M. and the young mother knew her life had changed forever.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not her aching body and dry mouth, not her ringless finger and empty waiting room. Nothing except for that small bundle in the nurse’s arms, nothing except for that tiny child that she knows she would give up anything for.

The nurse smiles at her, the baby in her arms wrapped tightly in soft blankets.

“A perfectly healthy baby girl. What would you like to name your daughter?”

Daughter. My daughter. The word rang in her head like a bell, and she knew.

The perfect name for her beautiful, strong, baby daughter.

“Anastasia,” The woman said as she held the world in her arms for the first time.

“Her name will be Anastasia.”

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