A Mother's Goodbye

Daisy pov

The ambulance came, and soon we were at the hospital, voices were urgent around me. “Fetal distress,” someone said. “We need to get her to surgery now.”

My father arrived just as they wheeled me toward the operating room. I reached for him, crying openly. “Daddy, I’m so scared. They said the baby is in danger.”

He took my hand and in a firm and warm grip.

Then he turned to the doctor, removing his glasses slowly.

“Doctor…”

His voice was calm. “Do all you can to save my daughter.” Then he paused. His throat worked visibly. “…and if possible… save my grandchild.”

The doctor nodded quickly. My father stayed beside me as they wheeled me into the theatre, never letting go of my hand. But this wasn’t enough. I wanted Cooper so badly that it hurt worse than the contractions.

In the theatre, I couldn’t feel my legs, only the pressure on my abdomen as the surgeons worked behind the curtains. Machines beeped steadily around me, each sound making my heart pound harder.

Then I heard someone say,

“It’s a boy.”

I smiled through the tears, a broken sob of relief escaping me. “He’s here,” I told my father, my voice shaky and weak.

He looked at me, eyes shining as he squeezed my hand tighter. “A grandson,” he said softly.

But the room went strangely quiet. The baby wasn’t crying. Doctors moved fast, voices urgent. Someone was hitting his tiny chest. I started to panic.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he crying?”

They worked on him forever. Then a doctor turned to me, face grim. “We did everything we could… but we lost him.”

“No,” I screamed. “Give me my baby!”

They placed him in my arms. He was so small. Perfect. He looked exactly like Cooper—the same nose and eyes. I cradled him, rocking gently.

“Breathe, please breathe,” I whispered, tears falling on his little face. “Come on, baby. Please.”

But he didn’t.

A stabbing tore through my heart. The room spun. Voices grew distant. Someone shouted, “We’re losing her!”

“Daisy… Daisy, wake up,” my father’s voice called, fading.

Everything went black.

In the darkness, voices drifted in and out like echoes underwater. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. One voice said something about “Mr. Donovan.” Another answered, low and urgent: “…your grandson…”

Then the darkness swallowed me whole.

****

I woke up slowly, like dragging myself out of thick, black water.

My abdomen burned with pain that made the smallest movement feel like glass grinding inside. I tried to lift my hand to my belly—the place where my baby had been kicking days ago, but it was gone. The absence stung before my mind caught up.

“Where’s my baby?” The words scraped out of me, barely louder than a whisper.

My father sat beside the bed, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Daisy…” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. The baby didn’t survive.”

My chest caved in, so violently, I gasped. “No. No, that’s not true.” I tried to sit up, but sharp pain exploded through my middle, pinning me down. “I heard him cry. He cried. Please, Daddy, tell me he’s okay. Please. Where is he?”

Tears spilled hot down my face. Dad held my gaze. “You were unconscious for twenty-four hours. I had the doctors take care of everything. I didn’t want you to suffer another goodbye. He’s already been buried, Daisy.”

A raw sound tore out of me. I turned into the pillow and sobbed until my body shook. The only good thing from my broken marriage was gone. I had imagined every moment with that little boy: tiny fingers wrapping around mine, soft coos in the quiet hours, a future where I wasn’t so alone. Now, there was nothing.

I cried until my throat was raw, and my eyes burned dry. When the tears finally slowed to silent, shuddering breaths, I whispered, "I had a dream while I was unconscious." My voice trembled. "I was holding my baby. He was warm, and he looked up at me... then suddenly he was gone. He just disappeared from my arms." I squeezed my eyes shut. "It felt so real."

My father brushed a tear from my cheek.

"Dreams can be cruel, Daisy," he said softly. "Sometimes they give us the life we desperately wish we had, only to take it away again. It's the mind's way of grieving.”

***

Three months later, I spent most days curled on the couch in my small apartment, staring at nothing. My mind replayed the same moments until I thought I’d go mad—Cooper telling me I should have gotten rid of our baby, Anastasia in his shirt, his silence when she announced their marriage, the accident, and the unbearable stillness of my little boy in my arms. Sleep came in fragments filled with the phantom weight of a baby. Some mornings, I couldn’t get out of bed, until I told myself I couldn’t keep living like this. Staying trapped, letting the pain repeat, wouldn’t bring my son back. I was only twenty-three. I had finished fashion school before my life fell apart. There was still time to build something that belonged to me.

It was time to leave New York.

Dad drove me to the cemetery first. I hadn’t found the courage to say goodbye. His hand was warm and steady as we walked the quiet path. At the small gravestone, I went down on my knees in the grass.

The pain hit fresh and vicious. If only Cooper hadn’t moved on so quickly. If only I hadn't believed he still loved me. If only I hadn't gone looking for him, my son would still be alive.

“I swear,” I whispered to the stone, voice trembling with fury and grief, “I will never forgive Cooper for this.”

My father’s arm came around my shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. We don’t want you to miss your flight.”

***

At the airport, he pulled me into a tight hug. I held on longer than I probably should have, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne and trying to memorize the solid, safe feel of him.

“You have a beautiful life ahead of you, Daisy,” he murmured against my hair. “Forget Cooper. Build something that’s yours.”

I nodded against his chest, then pulled back. “Take care of yourself, Dad. The justice system in New York is nothing without you.”

He smiled. “I’ll be fine. Go. Make me proud.”

I boarded the plane to Italy with my heart in jagged pieces, but my chin lifted.

As the plane lifted off and the city disappeared below, I pressed my forehead to the cool window and made a silent promise through the tears that wouldn’t stop.

I would come back stronger. Different and Unbreakable.