I was all set to rush my wife, Debra, in labor to the hospital when I got a devastating call from my mother’s nurse—my mom was dying. I was completely torn between being there for my wife and our soon-to-be-born child, and going to my mom’s side.
I still remember the day Debra discovered she was pregnant—a moment filled with tears, joy, and promises of becoming the best parents, especially after years of struggling with failed fertility treatments. We celebrated our miracle with tender moments and hopeful dreams. I reassured her that I’d always be by her side, even as she fretted over the complications of her pregnancy.
That beautiful day took a drastic turn. While I was preparing breakfast because Debra wasn’t feeling well, I found her leaning against the wall, clutching her baby bump and gasping. “Gordon… my water… it broke,” she whispered, panic in her eyes. I immediately grabbed the car keys and helped her into the vehicle, assuring her we’d get to the hospital quickly. Just as we started our journey, my phone rang—it was Marla, my mother’s nurse.
In a shaky voice, Marla informed me that my mom had suffered a heart attack and was now in critical condition at the hospital. My heart pounded as I realized I was forced to choose between my wife, who was in active labor, and my dying mother. I broke the news to Debra, and even in her pain, she insisted, “Call a taxi and go to Mom. I’ll manage here.” Though terrified and overwhelmed, I arranged for a taxi and sped off to my mother’s hospital, tears streaming down my face as I fretted over Debra and our unborn baby.
Upon arrival, I found Marla waiting outside the ward. Her brief words shattered me further: despite their efforts, the doctors couldn’t save my mom—she had passed away that very morning. The grief hit me hard, but then my phone rang again. It was Debra, her voice trembling yet filled with wonder: “We had a daughter, Gordon. She’s beautiful. You’re a father now.”
In that bittersweet moment, I was torn between joy and sorrow. I managed to say, “That’s wonderful news, honey,” then added, “But Mom’s gone.” Debra softly replied, “She’s with us,” and soon sent me a picture of our newborn daughter—a little girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to her grandmother. I couldn’t help but cry, overwhelmed by the weight of loss and the promise of new life.