The Church Down the RoadI stood there trembling like a leaf in an Arkansas earthquake. My hands were shaking, and my knees felt so weak I feared they wouldn’t hold me up. “Wh-when can I see her?” I asked.
“Which ‘her’ are we talking about?” the giggly, chubby nurse responded. “Mother or daughter?”
“Both!” I snapped, finding myself suddenly irritated at her glibness.
“Well, give us about thirty minutes to get Mrs. Dennison settled in her room and I will come get you.”
The young nurse changed her tone to be a bit more professional. “We should be able to bring your baby in shortly after that.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The young nurse turned to leave, and several of the church people rushed up to shake my hand, pat me on the back, and announce their congratulations. After that, most of them
