Part 2 is in the comments. What was written on that paper changed everything I believed about my husband—and sent me running back toward my baby.
I looked down at the folded paper in my hands.
Brian reached for it immediately.
“Sarah, don’t.”
That was the moment I knew the nurse hadn’t chased me down for something small.
I stepped back and opened the paper.
It was a copy of a note from the hospital social worker.
At the top was Brian’s name.
Underneath were details from a conversation he had had that morning while I was asleep.
He had told them I had already decided I didn’t want our son.
He had said I was too emotional to make decisions and asked them to move quickly with permanent placement.
Permanent.
Not temporary.
I stared at him.
“You told me we were just taking time to think.”
Brian’s face went pale.
“You were exhausted. I was trying to make things easier.”
“By making the decision for me?”
The nurse looked at me.
“You still have a choice. Nothing is final yet.”
For the first time since my son had been born, I felt like I could breathe.
I turned toward the hospital.
Brian grabbed my arm.
“Sarah, think about our life.”
I pulled away.
“I am.”
Then I ran.
I left the empty car seat on the sidewalk and rushed through the hospital doors.
By the time I reached the maternity floor, I was crying so hard I could barely speak.
“I want my baby back.”
The social worker stood from her desk.
Brian arrived seconds later.
“Sarah, stop. You’re making an emotional decision.”
