Chapter 20 - Livia
Bianca went into labor at thirty-nine weeks and two days.
At 3:11 a.m.
She called me.
“Dad.”
I sat up.
“What happened?”
“Contractions.”
“How far—”
“Don’t interrogate me.”
Right.
“Do you want me there?”
“Yes.”
Better.
I arrived after her doula.
Not before.
Hospital security knew the protective order.
No Gavin.
No Lenora.
No dramatic attempt at the doors.
People obey court orders more often than stories admit.
Labor progressed.
Then fetal heart rate decelerated briefly.
Bianca’s face went white.
Staff repositioned her.
Fluids.
Monitoring.
Rate recovered.
No emergency surgery.
Later labor stalled.
After medical discussion, Bianca agreed to cesarean delivery.
Not because of the prior sedative incident.
Obstetric reasons.
Livia was born healthy.
Seven pounds four ounces.
Strong cry.
Fair rosy skin.
Dark hair.
Bianca sobbed when they placed the baby near her cheek.
I waited outside until she asked for me.
When I entered, she looked exhausted.
Happy was too simple.
Alive.
Present.
That was enough.
“Want to hold her?”
I froze.
Bianca laughed weakly.
“You look terrified.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
She handed Livia to me.
I had held newborns before.
Bianca thirty years earlier.
Still.
This one carried months of legal documents before she had ever breathed.
I looked at her tiny face.
“She owns nothing.”
Bianca stared.
“Dad.”
I smiled.
“Bad joke.”
“Terrible.”
Then:
“And no one owns her.”
Better.
May you like
Bianca closed her eyes.
“Keep that one.”
