The drive to Cassidy’s house outside Bozeman took twenty-two minutes.Get Parenting Tips
It felt like twenty-two hours.
When I pulled into her driveway, an ambulance was already there. Paramedics rushed in and out of the house, their voices clipped and urgent beneath the flashing red lights.
Then they wheeled my daughter through the front door on a stretcher.
Her face was gray beneath the porch light. An oxygen mask covered her mouth, and her eyes fluttered as though she were struggling to stay conscious.
“Dad…”
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I rushed to her side and took her hand.
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
One of the paramedics explained that Cassidy had suffered severe abdominal trauma. They were concerned about placental separation and signs that the baby was in distress.Track Pregnancy
They couldn’t afford to waste another minute.
As the ambulance doors closed, I saw Lydia sitting on the living-room couch in her princess pajamas. She was clutching a stuffed elephant so tightly that her little fingers had gone pale.
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