Olivia showed up at the hospital on the third day. She stood in the doorway of my room looking uncertain and uncomfortable. We hadn’t spoken since the wedding. Can I come in?” she asked quietly. I nodded, too tired to argue or send her away. She entered slowly, taking in the medical equipment, my pale face, the emptiness where a pregnant belly had been.
I saw her, Olivia said, sitting in the visitors chair. The baby, I asked the Niku nurses if I could look through the window. She’s so tiny. 4 lb 6 o. I said she’s doing well considering breathing on her own, eating from a bottle. Olivia twisted her hands in her lap. I should have said something. At the wedding, when mom demanded your seat, when dad kicked your chair, I just stood there.
