Chapter 8 - The Awakening
The private room on the eighth floor of the University of Chicago Medical Center was bathed in warm, golden afternoon sunlight.
Sarah lay in the bed, propped up by crisp white pillows. Her skin was still pale, and she had an IV line running into her left hand, but the cloudiness in her blue eyes was gone.
Beside her bed, David sat on a chair, holding her right hand tightly, refusing to let go even for a second.
The door opened softly.
Dr. Mitchell stepped into the room, holding two-year-old Ethan in her arms.
Ethan looked around the unfamiliar room nervously, his little hands clutching his stuffed bunny. But then, his gaze moved to the bed.
He stopped breathing.
Sarah looked at her son—the baby who had been placed on her chest for only ten seconds in the operating room eighteen months ago before Vance’s nurses had wheeled her away into the dark.
"Ethan..." Sarah choked out, tears instantly overflowing her eyes, running down her cheeks. "My sweet boy..."
Ethan wriggled out of Dr. Mitchell's arms. His little shoes hit the linoleum floor with a soft patter.
He didn't run to the wall. He didn't look for a cold spot.
He walked straight to the side of the bed, reached out his tiny arms, and climbed up onto the mattress.
Sarah gathered him into her arms, pulling him against her chest, burying her face in his soft hair, sobbing with a joy so profound, so pure, that even Dr. Mitchell turned her head to wipe away a tear.
Ethan pulled back slightly, looking into Sarah’s eyes. He reached out a small, chubby finger and gently touched her cheek, wiping away her tear.
"Mama," Ethan said clearly, his face breaking into a wide, radiant smile. "Mama out."
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"Yes, baby," Sarah wept, kissing his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his small hands. "Mama's out. Mama's never going back."
David reached over, wrapping his arms around both of them, pulling his rebuilt family close under the warm afternoon sun.
