Then Melissa glanced at him.
Slowly, she shifted Hope.
Ryan hesitated.
Finally, he reached out.
His hands shook as Melissa placed their daughter into his arms.
This time, he didn’t look at her diagnosis.
He looked at her face.
Really looked.
Hope opened her eyes briefly.
Ryan let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Hi,” he whispered.
His tears landed on the blanket.
“I’m your dad.”
I turned away for a second because my own eyes were burning.
For months, I thought becoming a surrogate meant carrying a baby.
I learned that sometimes we carry much more than that.
We carry other people’s dreams.
Their fears.
Their expectations.
Sometimes even their secrets.
But there comes a moment when love requires us to put down what was never ours to carry.
I could carry Hope for nine months.
I could hold her when Ryan walked away.
