“Mom, do you want me to be there with you?” Michelle asked softly during one of our visits, her eyes filled with concern.
“I don’t know, sweetie,” I responded, my voice barely a whisper. “I just want what’s best for both of us.”
Seeking solace, Michelle held my hand, her grip warm and reassuring, grounding me even amidst the turmoil swirling around us. She was my anchor, each squeeze a reminder that I was not alone, despite the storm I was enduring.
“We’ll face this together, whatever the outcome,” she promised.
But I found myself wrestling with a haunting question that followed me like a shadow: What if the child I dreamed of was never meant to be? What if this miracle was not the sweet blessing I had envisioned? As that thought struck me, my heart twisted painfully, the weight of my longing met with the dread of potential loss.
