A nurse was checking the newborn’s blanket.
The woman looked at James.
Then at me.
And began crying.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I didn’t know her.
I looked at James.
“Who is she?”
He didn’t answer.
The woman did.
“My name is Rachel.”
She slowly reached toward the baby.
“I gave birth to her this morning.”
My eyes moved to the little face beneath the pink hat.
“She is beautiful.”
Rachel smiled sadly.
“She is.”
Then her expression changed.
“That’s why this is so hard.”
James stepped closer.
“Tell her.”
Rachel looked at me.
“The baby’s father died before she was born.”
My heart sank.
“I’m sorry.”
“He was my husband.”
She looked down.
“He died six months ago.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Rachel explained that her husband had been a close friend of James’s from college.
His name was Daniel.
I’d heard James mention him before.
Years ago.
But I’d never met him.
“Daniel knew about your family,” Rachel said. “He knew you had three boys. He knew you wanted a daughter.”
I looked at James.
“How?”
“Daniel called me two years ago,” James said.
“He was sick.”
Rachel continued the story.
Daniel had been diagnosed with a terminal illness.
Before he died, he discovered that Rachel was pregnant.
But there was something else.
He had written a letter.
A letter addressed to James.
PART 4 — THE LETTER
James handed me an envelope.
My name was written on it.
I looked at him.
“Why does this have my name?”
“Because Daniel asked me to give it to you if anything happened to him.”
My hands trembled as I opened it.
The letter was several pages long.
The first line made my eyes fill with tears.
I know you wanted a daughter. I know the doctors took that dream away from you.
I looked at James.
He lowered his head.
I continued reading.
Daniel explained that he had learned about our situation from James.
He knew I couldn’t safely carry another child.
But Rachel had always wanted to become a mother.
When Daniel became sick, they decided to have one last child using an embryo created before his treatment.
Their daughter had been conceived through IVF.
Daniel had hoped to live long enough to meet her.
He didn’t.
The letter continued:
James, if I don’t make it, please don’t let my daughter grow up believing she wasn’t wanted.
