Beep. Beep. Beep. Exhaustion pulls at me, heavy and relentless, threatening to drag me under. My skin glistens, damp with the proof of my efforts. The machine above me hums in steady rhythm, its sound a haunting lullaby—a reminder of where I am. My muscles throb, my breath trembles, and the air feels thick with waiting. The only other sound is the faint rustle of scrubs moving around me.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The rhythm quickens, echoing the pounding of my heart. Tears blur my vision, and panic surges through my veins. My throat feels raw, coated in sandpaper, while the questions pressing against my mind remain trapped behind my leaden tongue. A soft whimper escapes me as my eyes dart around the room.

Fluorescent lights glare down, sharp and unkind, as the metallic tang of antiseptic mingles with the unmistakable scent of blood. My blood. Warmth seeps between my legs, spreading across the scratchy sheets beneath me. It feels endless, unstoppable. My chest tightens, every breath shallow and jagged.

Silence. Deafening, suffocating silence. The sound of the machine drowned out by the roaring in my ears, my body bracing for the scream I feel building.

And then—you.

Your cry shatters the stillness, sharp and glorious. Relief crashes over me in a tidal wave, leaving me gasping. A flurry of movement surrounds me, voices rising, hands working. A sob breaks free from my lips as warmth is placed against my chest.

You. Writhing, wailing, utterly alive. Tears blur my vision as I cradle you, feeling your tiny body press against mine. All the pain, all the exhaustion, disappears. The lights above seem dim compared to the glow of you in my arms.

I look down, my breath catching. There you are—7 pounds, 1 ounce of perfect.

You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’ve caused me so much pain, yet the love I feel for you blinds me of it!