The hospital smells like disinfectant and fear.

I'm lying on my side in the emergency room, staring at the ultrasound monitor while a technician moves the wand across my belly. James sits in the chair beside me, holding my hand for the first time in weeks.

Funny how a crisis can make him remember how to be a husband.

"There's the heartbeat," the technician says, and I nearly sob with relief.

The steady thump-thump-thump fills the room, and I finally allow myself to breathe.

"Baby looks good," ...