Betty went to register for antenatal care that morning, her hand resting protectively over her belly even if there isn’t any bumps yet as she walked into the small clinic at the edge of town. The building was modest, paint slightly faded, but the nurses inside were warm and attentive. One of them helped her onto the bed, checked her blood pressure, measured her belly, and asked routine questions in a calm, reassuring tone.
Everything was fine.
The baby was fine. Strong heartbeat. Normal growth. No warning signs.
When the nurse checked her ankle, gently pressing and rotating it, Betty held her breath without realizing it. The injury had scared her more than she liked to admit. She’d been afraid it would become something more, another problem stacked on top of an already complicated situa
