The Space Between Us

No Father Listed

Kassie went to her routine thirty-eight-week appointment on a Tuesday morning in early January, expecting nothing more than the usual measurements and monitoring. She’d been feeling good—better than she had in weeks—and was looking forward to Dr. Martinez’s reassurance that everything was progressing normally.

Instead, the nurse’s frown as she took Kassie’s blood pressure for the third time sent a chill down her spine.

“What’s wrong?” Kassie asked, watching the nurse scribble numbers on her chart.

“Your blood pressure is quite elevated. Let me get Dr. Martinez.”

The next hour passed in a blur of tests and consultations. Dr. Martinez’s expression grew more serious with each result, and when she finally sat down to talk with Kassie, her tone was gentle but firm.

“Your blood pressure is dangerously high, and we’re seeing protein in your urine,” she explained. “These are signs of severe preeclampsia. We need to deliver the baby today.”

Kassie’s world tilted. “Today? But I’m only thirty-eight weeks—”

“Thirty-eight weeks is considered full-term, and babies born at this stage do very well. But if we wait, you’re at risk for seizures, stroke, or worse. We need to do a C-section within the next few hours.”

The words hit Kassie like a physical blow. She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t finished preparing. She hadn’t had time to mentally prepare for the reality that her baby was coming today, whether she was ready or not.

“I need to call someone,” she said, her hands already shaking as she reached for her phone.

Her first call was to Sarah, who promised to be at the hospital within the hour. Her second call was to David, asking him to pick up the kids from school and explain what was happening.

Her third call was to Daniel.

It rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. His cheerful recorded voice felt like a mockery: “You’ve reached Daniel. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Daniel, it’s me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the chaos around her. “I’m at the hospital. They’re doing an emergency C-section today because of my blood pressure. The baby is coming now. I thought… I thought you should know.”

She hung up and didn’t try calling again. Daniel had made his feelings clear weeks ago. This call was just to inform him, not to ask for his presence.

The pre-surgery preparations moved quickly—blood draws, IV lines, consent forms, and explanations of what would happen during the procedure. Through it all, Kassie focused on the support that was actually coming: Sarah rushing from work, David arranging care for the older kids, the medical team ensuring her and the baby’s safety.

Sarah arrived just as they were preparing to wheel Kassie to the operating room, her face flushed from running through the hospital corridors.

“How are you doing?” she asked, taking Kassie’s hand.

“Scared,” Kassie admitted. “But ready.”

“You’ve got this,” Sarah said firmly. “And I’ll be right there with you.”

The C-section itself was surreal—the clinical brightness of the operating room, the gentle chatter of the medical team, the strange sensation of pressure without pain. Sarah stood beside her head, holding her hand and providing a steady stream of encouragement.

“Almost there,” Dr. Martinez called out. “I can see the baby.”

And then, suddenly, there was a cry—a tiny, indignant wail that cut through all the medical equipment noise and went straight to Kassie’s heart.

“It’s a girl,” Dr. Martinez announced, lifting a small, perfect baby into view. “She’s beautiful.”

Through her tears, Kassie saw her daughter for the first time—pink and healthy, tiny fists waving in protest at being thrust into the bright, cold world. She was perfect, absolutely perfect, and she was here.

“Emma,” Kassie whispered, the name she’d carried in her heart for months finally having a face to match it. “Her name is Emma.”

They cleaned Emma quickly and placed her on Kassie’s chest, and the world narrowed to just the two of them—mother and daughter, finally meeting after nine months of waiting. Emma quieted at the sound of Kassie’s voice, her tiny eyes blinking up at the face that would love her unconditionally for the rest of her life.

“She’s perfect,” Sarah whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Kassie, she’s absolutely perfect.”

And she was. Ten fingers, ten toes, a perfectly round head covered in the finest wisps of dark hair. Daniel’s hair, Kassie realized with a pang that was both sweet and heartbreaking.

The recovery room was quiet except for the soft sounds of Emma breathing and the gentle beeps of monitoring equipment. Kassie held her daughter, marveling at every tiny detail while Sarah took pictures and made the necessary phone calls to family.

That evening, after Sarah had gone home to get some rest and promised to return in the morning, Kassie’s phone rang. Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.

“Kassie?” His voice was cautious, distant.

“She’s here,” Kassie said simply. “Your daughter is here.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment. “Is she… is everything okay?”

“She’s perfect. Her name is Emma. She weighs five pounds, twelve ounces, and she’s the most beautiful baby in the world. They had to do a C-section because my blood pressure was too high, but we’re both fine now.”

Another pause. “That’s… that’s good. I’m glad you’re both safe.”

He sounded like he was offering condolences rather than celebrating the birth of his child.

“I just thought you should know,” Kassie said, not asking him to come, not requesting anything from him.

“Thank you for calling,” Daniel said formally. “I hope… I hope everything goes well.”

The conversation felt like closure rather than a beginning. Daniel wasn’t asking to see Emma, wasn’t expressing any desire to meet his daughter. He was being polite, distant, treating this like news about an acquaintance’s baby rather than his own child.

“Take care of yourself, Kassie,” he said, and she could hear the finality in his voice.

“We will,” she replied, meaning it completely.

After he hung up, Kassie looked down at Emma, who was sleeping peacefully in her hospital bassinet, and felt a fierce protectiveness wash over her.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” she whispered, reaching down to stroke Emma’s soft cheek. “You don’t need him. You have me, and Lee and Aaron and Marie, and we’re going to love you enough for everybody.”

Over the next three days in the hospital, Daniel didn’t call again. When the social worker came by to discuss the birth certificate paperwork, Kassie found herself in the surreal position of explaining that the father wouldn’t be signing.

“That’s his right, of course,” the woman said kindly, “but it does make things more complicated later if he changes his mind about wanting parental rights or responsibilities.”

The irony wasn’t lost on Kassie—Daniel was so afraid of failing as a father that he was choosing not to be one at all.

On the day she was discharged, Sarah helped arrange for Lee, Aaron, and Marie to come to the hospital to meet their new sister. Watching her children’s faces light up as they held Emma for the first time was one of the most beautiful moments of Kassie’s life.

“She’s so tiny,” Marie whispered, carefully supporting Emma’s head the way the nurse had shown her.

“She looks like Mom,” Aaron observed, though he was smiling as he said it.

Lee was the most gentle of all, holding Emma with the careful reverence of someone who understood how precious and fragile new life could be. “Hi, Emma,” he said softly. “I’m your big brother Lee. I’m going to help take care of you.”

That evening, as Kassie sat in the rocking chair nursing Emma for the first time in their home, surrounded by her four children, she made a decision that felt both sad and liberating. She stopped waiting for Daniel to change his mind about being a father. She stopped hoping he would realize what he was missing and come back.

Emma deserved better than a father who viewed her as a burden. She deserved better than a man who would abandon her before she was even born.

And maybe, Kassie thought as she looked around at Lee quietly doing homework at the kitchen table, Aaron organizing his baseball cards, and Marie practicing her cheer moves while keeping her voice down for the baby, they were all better off without him. This was her family—complete and whole and full of love, even without Daniel in it.