At the hospital, everything happened in a rush. Nurses moved quickly, doctors spoke in urgent but gentle voices, and I felt the world tilt under my feet. Through it all, the woman — Clara — waited just outside my room, her presence a quiet anchor in the chaos. When they told me it wasn’t labor but a complication that needed monitoring, relief hit me so hard it brought tears. And the moment I stepped out, still shaken, Clara stood the way a friend would — protective, attentive, and genuinely concerned.
She stayed with me for hours, even though she didn’t have to. She talked softly, telling me about raising her own children, about fear and joy and how motherhood never stopped surprising her. Continue reading…
