Five hours into her hospital stay, she begins to run a fever. Ice packs come out. Two more bags drip fluid.
It's funny how much effort goes into avoiding the fragility of it all. They talk about starting her on antibiotics. "That doesn't sound good," she says softly, but goes no further.
Funny how often we live with that terror in the room. When is a sign a sign? What is normal about any feeling at all? The unthinkable stretch between 0 and 10. When the baby is born, at last, isn't that only the beginning?
