I ignored it.
At twenty-seven weeks, I woke shortly after midnight with a strange sensation across my lower abdomen.
Then another.
Then warmth.
Too much warmth.
I looked down.
My water had broken.
I called emergency services.
Then Adrian.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
The ambulance arrived before he answered.
At Willowcrest Medical Center, everything happened fast.
Medication.
Monitors.
Doctors.
Nurses.
I remember one physician explaining that they would try to delay delivery.
I remember another saying one baby’s heart rate was becoming concerning.
Then:
“We need to deliver.”
I started crying.
“They’re too early.”
