He was leaning over the tub, supporting the baby’s tiny neck with one hand and pouring warm water over her shoulder with a plastic cup with the other. He moved as if he were handling glass.
Ten years of calendars, blood tests, injections, appointments, and losses that meant nothing to anyone but us.
And now Sophia was finally here.
Our daughter.
It was still hard to say it without feeling like I was going to cry.
Our surrogate mother, Kendra, had given birth a few days earlier.
Even now, it all felt unreal.
We had done the surrogacy the right way. Lawyers. Contracts. Therapy. Medical exams. Every form signed, every boundary defined.
We believed that structure could protect us from the pain.
