Viola was beautiful, but she was very sick. At only one and a half pounds, she lay inside neonatal intensive care, in a ventilator that made her look tiny. Mosiah had no idea where his wife was. After giving birth, she’d hemorrhaged on the operating table, and he’d had no choice but to watch her be taken away to emergency. Nothing made a man feel more helpless than having his wife and newborn swept away from him, and being able to do nothing about it.

He sat in the waiting room, eager to see his wife, and worried for her safety. He’d been informed by a kind nurse that she’d lost about forty ounces of blood after the surgery, and had taken a while to revive. When she was wheeled from the operating room, Mosiah had been certain she wouldn’t survive. Though some of his anxieties had been eased by the nurses, he still feared the worst.

When Viola was born, she’d caused a lot of concern, and had been too small to undergo necessary surgeries without apprehension. She’d been born with quite a large lump in the middle of her spine, and whisked away for surgery with permission from her father. It had felt wrong to send a newborn into serious surgery without first consulting her mother.

A nurse entered the waiting room. It was late at night, and two hours had passed since Viola’s birth. “Mosiah?” He’d seen this nurse before. It was one of the ones who took Valentina out of the operating room. It was hard to be hopeful. “Your wife is asking for you.”

She’d gotten a blood transfusion. It played in Mosiah’s mind, over and over again, Valentina lying on the operating table, bleeding heavily and quickly. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but had been given no choice. The nurse walked quickly and impatiently, rushed, as nurses always were. In her hospital room, Valentina was connected to multiple machines after her transfusion, and looked weary. She was alive. At one point, he hadn’t been sure.

She didn’t greet him. “Where’s Viola?”

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She was a goddess. Everything about her made him feel inferior. “She’s fine.” Taking the seat at the foot of her bed, Mosiah longed to hold her. “She’s in intensive care.” The baby had been taken away while Valentina was woozy, and it was likely she hadn’t been told anything. “She’s recovering from spinal and brain surgery.”

“Brain surgery?”

He shouldn’t have agitated Valentina. She sat upright, looking very tired and run-down. “Why is my daughter getting brain surgery?” She needed to rest. There was time to rest now. Viola was alive, and she was being taken care of.

“Viola was the name of my childhood best friend in Colombia. If the baby is a girl, I want to name her Viola.”

He spoke to her in Spanish, in the low tone that always calmed her down. “She has spina bifida: but she’s okay. They put a shunt in her brain to prevent hydrocephalus. I said they could.” Perhaps Viola would recover with minimal disability. Perhaps she would grow up to have physical limitations. None of this mattered now, because she was alive. Valentina was quiet. She became agitated easily in times of stress, but always tried to find a moment to calm down. She looked small and scared, as she had during her labour with Maia. Mosiah moved his chair to the side of her bed, kissing her forehead, which was wet. “She’ll be alright, cariña, promise.”

She looked at him, not speaking for a moment, scrutinizing his face with crestfallen eyes. “Is it my fault?”

Valentina needed a nap. This would be hard for her with all of the anxiety she was having. “No, baby. Sometimes things just go wrong.” He’d been allowed to hold Viola briefly after her birth, before she was whisked away by the medical team. “Take a nap, amor. When you wake up, we’ll go check on Viola.”

“I’m scared,” she’d said, when they wheeled her upstairs to the operating room. “What if the baby doesn’t make it?”

He’d taken her hands, stroking her thumbs with his. “Everybody will be fine, sweetheart.” He couldn’t promise this. All Valentina needed was a bit of reassurance to get her through the surgery. After tonight, Mosiah was certain he’d never agree to having another baby.

Valentina was groggy. “Stay here,” she said, and lay back on her pillow, falling asleep in seconds.