Page 306 - Wordsmith A Guide to College Writing

“I just hate that I won’t be there,” he said with

disappointment.

As a warning siren began to blare loudly in the

background on his end of the phone line, I knew our

special moment was over, and reality began to set back

in.

The months went by with each doctor’s appointment

ending in good news, despite the fact that I had been

listed as a high-risk pregnancy. I had two months left

to go and this is when I began to worry. I had only made

it this far with the first child, and every day I had
that thought lingering in the back of my mind. I was

terrified that something would happen and that something

would go wrong. I wasn’t eating right, and I was staying

up all night consumed with stress. I became a prisoner

to fear.

I had six weeks left to go before my due date when I

woke, shirt drenched in sweat. And with the familiar

back pain I had experienced several years earlier, the

type of pain that left no doubt that something was
terribly wrong. Arriving at the hospital, I was met with

a mad rush of nurses, equipment, and my family colliding

into the room. I received frantic, rapid orders.

“The baby’s stats are low,” said the nurse on my left.