We left the hospital that afternoon in silence.
On the way home, Mamdouh finally took my hand.
“We’ll get through this,” he said.
I nodded, although I had no idea how.
News traveled quickly. Some people called the pregnancy a blessing. Others warned us that we were facing an impossible challenge. Relatives arrived with advice, neighbors offered prayers, and strangers began treating me as though I were already a medical miracle.
But nobody saw what happened after everyone left.
Nobody saw me lying awake at three in the morning, afraid to move because my back hurt and my breathing had become difficult.
Nobody heard me whisper to the seven tiny lives inside me, promising them that their mother would fight for them.
I was afraid to give them names because I was terrified of losing one.
But love does not wait for permission.
With every movement inside my belly, I became more attached to them.
