Engaging Introduction
The delivery room was white. Sterile. Quiet except for the beeping of monitors and the soft crying of my wife, Elena, who had been in labor for eighteen hours.
I stood by the window, staring at the parking lot,"s" trying to remember how to breathe.
When the nurse placed our baby in my arms, I felt nothing.
Not love. Not joy. Not the overwhelming rush of emotion that everyone promised.
I felt hollow. Empty. Terrified.
Because the baby in my arms didn’t look like me. Didn’t look like Elena. Didn’t look like anyone in either of our families.
