Permanent.
Not temporary.
I stared at him.
“You told me we were only giving ourselves time to think.”
Michael went pale.
“You were exhausted. I was trying to make things easier.”
“By making the decision for me?”
The nurse looked at me.
“You can still change your mind. Nothing is final yet.”
For the first time since my son had been born, I felt like I could breathe again.
I turned toward the hospital.
Michael grabbed my arm.
“Emily, think about our life.”
I pulled myself free.
“That is exactly what I’m doing.”
Then I started running.
I left the empty baby carrier on the pavement and rushed back through the hospital doors.
By the time I reached the maternity floor, I was crying so hard I could barely speak.
“I want my baby back.”
The social worker stood up from her desk.
Michael arrived several seconds later.
“Emily, stop. You’re making an emotional decision.”
