Now, in the ER waiting room, her wails echoed through the air. Her fists were balled tightly near her face, her little legs kicking furiously. Her voice was raw from crying so long, but she refused to give up.
“Shhh, sweetheart. Mommy’s here,” I whispered, rocking her gently. My own voice was hoarse, my throat dry from repeating the same words like a prayer.
It didn’t help. Nothing helped.
My abdomen throbbed with each movement — the C-section incision healing too slowly, punishing me for ignoring the pain. But there was no time to care about myself. Everything was about Sophia.
Three weeks ago, I became a mother. Alone.
