Sarah
Vincent pushes open the hospital's double doors, and we step out into the sunlight. I keep Bryce close to my chest as he wheels me toward his car.
"We will be home soon," Vincent says.
"Feels surreal," I murmur, watching Vincent put Bryce in his car seat.
We are finally taking our baby home. I slide in next to him. Bryce's tiny hand wraps around my fingertip, and my heart does a somersault.
Vincent catches my eye in the rearview mirror as we drive off, his usual confidence replaced by a silent understanding of the delicate situation we've been thrust into. We exchange a look that says, 'We can do this,' without uttering a word.
The drive home was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional beep from the portable monitor that now accompanied Bryce everywhere.
