“Congratulations, Mrs. Hunter. You are ten weeks pregnant.”

I got out of the doctor’s clinic completely in a daze. Her words echoed in my head, making my heart beat fast. In the midst of grief and pain, finally, there’s some good news, I mused to myself. Ecstatic, I could not help the grin that spread across my face, feeling the slight lifting of the weight on my shoulders. With renewed vigor, I quickened my steps, heading toward the ICU where Noah lay.

“Mrs. Hunter.” The nurse greeted me, pulling me from my thoughts. “How’s Noah?” I asked, a slight fatigue in my voice. “Still the same. Mr. Hunter has not woken up yet.” The statement dampened my enthusiasm, but I marched to my husband’s bed, took the chair, and sat down. The nurse left to give us privacy.

I looked at the dearly beloved face of the man I loved, and longing pierced my heart. Involuntarily, my hand lifted to touch his face. I let the tip of my finger trace his eyelids before brushing the lock that fell down his forehead. I noticed he needed a haircut and a shave, too, and made a mental note to bring his personal barber next time.

“Noah. Wake up. It’s been weeks.” I murmured, a wave of desolation gripping me as I saw the pallor on his face. At the same time, I pressed the palm of my hand to my lower abdomen. It was an unconscious act I had been doing since I learned about the pregnancy. “Please open your eyes. There is something you need to know.” I told him, trying to stifle the excitement in my voice despite our situation.