He Forced Me To Abort Now He Begs Me Back Chapter 15
My daughter was born in the crisp air of early fall.
Outside the delivery room, there was only my lawyer. She waited on the other side of the doors in a hallway so still you could hear a pin drop.
Labor felt endless. The contractions came harder and faster, soaking my hair with sweat. My vision washed out in waves of white more than once. But I didn’t scream. When the pain was at its worst, I just gripped the bed rail until my knuckles were bone-white and deep red marks were pressed into my palms.
Then, a bright, powerful cry split the air, and the nurse smiled down at me.
“A healthy baby girl.”
They placed her on my chest. She was so warm, her cheeks flushed, her tiny mouth still wailing with all her might.
So small.
So full of life.
I looked down at her for a long, long time.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t think of anyone else. The pain, the pressure, the judgment—it all receded into the distance. What filled my chest instead was a sense of peace and wholeness I had never known before.
“Your name is Aurora Bennett,” I whispered.
Aurora, for the dawn.
Bennett, for me.
I touched her hand. “Hello, Aurora. Welcome to your world.”
She slowly opened her eyes. Her soft little fingers unfurled and then wrapped tightly around my fingertip.
A month later, I was pushing her stroller through Washington Park in Denver.