Nevara
“We deliver at eight.”
The physician’s command shattered whatever remained of the room’s fragile order.
The midwives moved me closer to the edge of the bed. Mom released my hand long enough to help one of them reposition my legs, while Thoren remained behind me, his arms braced beneath mine.
“No,” I gasped. “You said I needed to reach ten.”
“Your son cannot tolerate waiting.”
“And my body?”
The physician met my gaze from between my knees.
“Your body will have to do what it can.”
Fear struck harder than the next contraction.
The baby’s heartbeat continued slowing on the monitor, each beat farther apart than the last. The rhythm that had filled the room for hours now sounded thin and exhausted.
“Gavin,” I whispered.
No answer came.
The contraction seized me.
Pressure dro
