Breathe… just breathe. Everything’s going to be alright,” Thomas whispered softly to his sister, walking alongside her as she was wheeled toward the operating room on a gurney.
Leah’s forehead was damp with sweat, her brows furrowed as she struggled to take a deep breath. “You’re… the best big brother I could’ve ever asked God for,” she whispered as they approached the OR doors.
Leah had gone into labor prematurely at 36 weeks, and the doctors had recommended a C-section. But moments after delivering the first baby, her heart rate started to drop rapidly, and her condition took a turn for the worse…
Leah, please stay with me! Nurse, what’s happening? Look at me, Leah—just look at me!” Thomas cried, clutching her hand tightly, panic and fear in his voice.
“Dr. Spellman, I’m sorry, but you need to step outside,” said Dr. Nichols, gently guiding him out of the room. Then the operating room doors swung shut.
Thomas collapsed into one of the waiting room chairs, his tears flowing freely. He could still smell his sister’s scent on his hands. Burying his face in his palms, he prayed—desperately—that everything would be okay.
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