Hours later, through the haze of pain, I heard the sweetest sound—a baby’s cry.
“Congratulations,” the doctor smiled. “You have a healthy baby girl.”
I looked down at her tiny face—soft curls, clenched fists, perfect and alive. “Your mommy’s going to be so happy,” I whispered.
Two hours later, Rachel and Jason arrived. I felt relief—until I saw their faces.
They weren’t joyful. They were stunned.
Rachel stared at the baby in my arms. “The nurse said…” she stammered. “This isn’t what we expected.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, dread rising.
“It’s a girl,” she said flatly. “We wanted a boy.”
Jason’s jaw tightened. “We assumed, since you’ve had four boys…” He trailed off, disgust flickering. “We needed a son. My family name—”
I couldn’t believe it. “You’re joking,” I said, holding the baby closer. “This is your child. The one you’ve been praying for.”
Jason didn’t respond. He turned and walked out.
Rachel’s voice trembled. “He said he’d leave me if I brought home a girl. His family needs a boy.”
Luke’s voice cut through the silence. “So your solution is to abandon her? A newborn? Your own daughter?”
Rachel looked down, ashamed. “Maybe someone else can take her. A couple who wants a girl.”
That was it. Something in me broke. “Get out,” I said quietly. “Get out until you remember what it means to be a mother.”
