CHAPTER 11 — THE DAY OUR SON WAS BORN
Seven months later.
A powerful storm covered the city.
Hannah went into labor at nearly three in the morning.
I was more terrified than she was.
“Thomas, calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“You're holding your jacket upside down.”
I looked down.
She laughed.
For the first time in months, I heard her laugh freely.
At the hospital, I held Hannah's hand for hours.
She cried from the pain.
I hated watching her suffer.
“I'm here.”
I kept repeating those words.
“I'm here.”
Finally...
A cry filled the room.
Strong.
Clear.
Alive.
I burst into tears.
The doctor placed our baby in Hannah's arms.
A tiny boy.
His little fists were tightly closed.
Hannah looked at him.
Then she looked at me.
“What should we name him?”
I looked at my son.
“Daniel.”
“Daniel?”
I nodded.
“Because I want him to grow up knowing that truth and justice matter.”
Hannah smiled.
“Then Daniel will be a strong boy.”
May you like
I bent down and kissed both of them.
“And deeply loved.”
