I woke up bleeding but not much. Just a small rusty stain on my sheets. But in pregnancy, even a drop felt like a flood.
My hand flew to my belly, still soft. Panic crawled up my throat. I tried to stand, but my legs buckled. My phone slipped out of my hand. I fumbled for it, heart pounding as I called Noah.
He picked up after the second ring. “Grace?”
“I’m bleeding.”
Silence. Then the sound of keys, and, “I’m coming now.”
The hospital was cold. All hospitals are but this one felt clinical in a way that made me feel like a statistic instead of a person like a mistake in a lab coat.
They moved quickly tests, monitors, fetal heartbeats. A nurse pressed a Doppler to my belly. For a moment, nothing. Then the rapid, fluttery thump of life.
My chest collapsed in relief.
“You’re lucky,” t
