Two hours has never felt so long in all my life. I feel like my skin is on fire and roll down the window to cool off, but it doesn’t help.

“Aundrea, it’s going to be okay. We need to have hope.”

Hope. It’s a word I’ve become familiar with.

The hospital lights blind me. All I see are the big red letters that spell EMERGENCY. Suddenly, my anxiety is unbearable. The moment I walk through those doors, my life could be changed forever.

Parker pulls into the ramp by the emergency room and takes the first spot he can find. We run to the entrance.

I’m not sure where we’re going, and a small fraction of me isn’t sure I want to find it yet. I’m scared. Terrified of what’s to come. I say a silent prayer: I want this baby more than anything. Don’t take that away, please.

Parker asks directions and we run, hand in hand, through the empty halls.

I hate the smell of hospitals. They all smell the same.

Like illness.

Stale death.

And they’re always so bright. Like it’s trying to convince us that an angel is there to save those who come through its doors.

I pray for an angel right now.

Parker runs to the emergency check-in desk, demanding to know where Wendy is. I can tell the nurse is freaked out. She keeps asking him to calm down. Parker’s voice begins to rise and heads turn our way. I’ve never seen him like this. Then again, I’ve never had a reason to.

I scan the crowd and finally see Ron. “Aundrea!”

Parker’s head snaps toward Ron’s voice. Banging his hand on the counter, he pushes himself off. We meet halfway.

“Where is she?”

“Is the baby okay?”

“What’s going on?”

“What happened?”

Ron can’t get a word in. He gestures for us to stop.

I cling to Parker’s arm, bracing myself for the worst. Worse than hearing my cancer is back. Worse than learning that my heart condition has gotten worse. Worse than being told a friend has died.

I close my eyes tightly, waiting—bracing myself.

“She’s in surgery. She got into an accident on the freeway. Someone changing lanes wasn’t paying attention and sideswiped the car. She got pushed into the guardrail.”

I fall against Parker. Surgery.

“And the baby?” Parker pleads.

“As far as I know, the baby is okay. They said she fractured her arm pretty bad and they had to put her under to put in a plate. The surgeon told me they’d have the best team in there monitoring the baby. Didn’t the nurse tell you this?” he looks really confused.

The baby is okay. Tears stream down my cheeks.

“No,” Parker’s voice cracks. “She wouldn’t tell me anything. Something about HIPAA.”

“Shit,” Ron mumbles under his breath. “I told her to call and let you know what was going on and that the doctors said the baby was okay. I had to fill out paperwork and answer a bunch of questions from the staff, so I couldn’t call. She came over once I was done and said she made the call, so I didn’t think about it again. Hell, I’m sorry. I should have just called.”

“It’s not your fault,” Parker says, patting his shoulder.

“I tried to call you,” I squeak out.

Ron looks over to me, apologetically and takes out his phone. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. What’s important is she’s okay.”

I see the tears forming in his eyes. “Yes.”

We sit down and wait for an update on Wendy. On the baby. But no one comes.

Thirty minutes pass.

Then an hour.

I’m sipping my second cup of nasty, too-strong coffee when someone finally comes.

“Mr. Henderson?”

“That’s me.”

We all stand, anxious to hear the news.

“I’m Dr. Jenson.” They shake hands and he looks over at us. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

“Actually, these are the parents of the baby.”

He nods. “Okay. Well, Wendy has suffered a serious compound fracture to her left arm. I’ve set it using a permanent plate. She may have some permanent nerve damage, but we won’t know for sure until the cast comes off. Wendy’s also suffered a number of bumps and bruises, including a fractured rib. Other than that, though, she was remarkably lucky. Neither car was going very fast, which I’m certain is what saved her.”

“And the baby?” I ask, hopeful.

“The baby is doing fine.” I sigh in relief, falling against Parker. He holds onto me, squeezing, letting me know he’s right here. “There were no signs of distress when she was brought in, nor any during surgery. We had a team in there monitoring them the entire time. We’ll keep Wendy a few days to make sure everything is okay with the baby but, so far, there are no signs of any complications.”

“Thank God,” I cry.

“The nurse is about to take her back for an ultrasound. Would you like to be there, too?”

We both nod, unable to speak, and follow Ron and the doctor. I know Ron must be anxious to see his wife.

My life isn’t just mine anymore; I’m also living for someone else. I’ve been so focused on what will happen if I’m gone—on how those around me will respond and live—that I’ve never stopped to think how I’d feel if my child leaves me.

Wendy’s sleeping when we enter the room. Her face is a little bruised and her arm is in a cast. Ron goes to her side and kisses her. I start to cry when I see her stomach through the blankets. Parker pulls me into a hug, letting me cry into his chest.