Tom, weve got a girl, 7.7pounds! Gail shouted into the phone, her voice trembling with joy.
I stood beneath the arches of St.Marys Maternity Hospital, waving at my wife who cradled the newborn in her arms.
Its a daughter. Im a father! But Gail, werent we supposed to have a boy? I shouted over the line.
Silence stretched in the receiver before Gails voice slipped out, low and uncertain:
I think they made a mistake
I turned away and drifted past the cheering fathers, their chalkdrawn hearts on the pavement, bright balloons soaring into the sky, polished cars lined with relatives shaking hands and snapping photos.
All my life Id imagined a sonan heir, a continuation of the family line. While Gail paced, belly swollen, I painted pictures in my head: us kicking a football in the back garden, a quiet fishing trip where Id haul in a hefty catch for mum, evenings around the table where wed recount the days triumphs, my sons grin the crown of my pride.
Gail had struggled for years to conceive. We saw specialists, even a renowned professor of fertility, and after five long, barren years she finally delivered the news.
Tom, are you hearing me? a voice called from behind. I spun to see Piers, my old university mate, his coat dusted with rain.
How long has it been, Piers? I asked, breathless.
Just came home to mum; shes a bit under the weather, and Ive been on my own for five years since dad passed. You?
Just left the hospital. Gail gave birth to a daughter.
Congratulations! Why arent you smiling? he said, trying to grin.
He glanced at a café a few steps away and gestured.
Come in, lets have a drink. Weve all been waiting for boys, for heirsits only natural. I was once like you, gearing up for a son, and then my wife she gave birth to a girl.
Hows your family? Did they come with you?
Piers lowered his eyes, the weight of something unsaid pressing down. Finally, his stare met mine, a hollow depth that seemed to swallow the whole world.
Im alone now. No more family. Tom, this isnt the time for your celebration.
What happened?
An accident I cant bear to think about it. Ive been on my own for a year, planning to move back with my mother, find work, fix up my flat.
We lingered over coffee, swapping stories from our student days, reminiscing about mutual friends, sketching out futures that felt both distant and inevitable. I gave him my number, promising he could call any hour.
The next morning, a massive bouquet of pink peonies and a cluster of helium balloons were waiting at the hospital windows.
Gail! I cried, hearing her familiar voice crackle through the line.
Forgive me, Tom! Im over the moon about our longawaited daughter. Does she look like you?
Like you, love, absolutely!
Really? I was a mess yesterday
Dont worry, I understand everything she cut me off gently.
Tom, shes a healthy little thing calm, sleeps soundly, even smiles in her dreams. Theyll discharge us soon; youll see for yourself.
Years later, the birth was hard, the complications scarred her health, and we never had more children. Our daughter, now twenty, blossomed into a brilliant, beautiful woman we cherish beyond words. Piers, who had become her godfather, remains a steadfast presence.
I still thank that rainy café conversation for opening my eyes, for teaching me to value and love everyone who stands beside me now.
