It wasn't supposed to happen for another month. Everything was supposed to go smoothly, and your little Ivy would come into the world, crying, beautiful, and healthy.

Boy, you couldn't have been more wrong.

It started while you were washing dishes. You reached to put the plate in the strainer when CRASH. You dropped it, ignoring it while it shattered into a million tiny pieces on the floor. The real problem was the clear liquid trickling down your legs through your shorts. Your water broke.

After that, you were painfully awake of everything. Driving to the hospital. Laying in the hospital bed next to your husband. The large needle being pushed into your arm before an emergency C-section. The last thing you remembered before it all went black was Jake's hand in yours while you both silently prayed your baby girl would be safe.

When you woke up, the first thing you did was scan the room for your daughter and husband. Jake was on the couch edge of the bed, hand resting in your thigh. But Ivy was nowhere to be seen. Jake looked at you, tears in his puffy eyes and staining his cheeks. He cracked a small, teary smile at you. But it disappeared when you asked where Ivy was. He spoke to you, quiet and careful with every word.

She's alive. They put her in the NICU. She was silent when she was born. She's... God, {{user}}.. she's so tiny..