Chapter 3: The Dawns Family
January 2000
(Somewhere in USA, Arizona)
The golden sunlight filtered through my bedroom window, warming my skin with its gentle touch. It was morning—another day, another moment where hope teetered between possibility and uncertainty. I stretched, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of my thoughts pressing against my chest. Today was an important day—my antenatal check-up.
My name is Bunmi Dawns, and for six years, I have been married to Scott Dawns—the love of my life. A year after our wedding, we were blessed with our son, Justin. But in the four years that followed, every attempt to have another child ended in heart-wrenching loss. Twice, when Justin was two, I carried life inside me, only for it to slip away before I ever got to hold it.
And now, I am pregnant again—for the third time since my son's birth. The fragile hope inside me is both a blessing and a burden. Every moment, I pray this child stays. Every moment, I fight the fear that it won't. The pain of my past losses haunts me, and shame creeps in when Scott catches me crying in secret, drowning in helpless sorrow.
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**Mount Graham Hospital, Stafford, Arizona**
I walked into the hospital, forcing my steps to remain steady as anxiety churned within me. Approaching the receptionist, I took a deep breath.
"I have an appointment with Dr. Noel at 10:00 AM," I said, my voice controlled but tentative.
The receptionist checked her records, then nodded politely. "You may proceed to his office, ma'am."
Gathering myself, I made my way down the hall, my heartbeat steady yet fragile, like the child I carried within me.
"Good morning, ma'am," Dr. Noel greeted warmly as I entered his office.
"Good morning, doctor," I responded, taking a seat. I hesitated for a moment before speaking, my voice filled with quiet desperation. "You already understand my condition. What are my chances this time? I don't want to hold onto false hope."
Ever since Justin's birth, my uterus had weakened, struggling to sustain another pregnancy. The repeated miscarriages had only worsened my condition, and stress had further diminished my ability to carry a child to term. The probability of success felt almost nonexistent.
Dr. Noel sighed, his expression calm yet concerned. "Mrs. Dawns, your case is delicate. Right now, it's too early to determine the viability of this pregnancy—you're only two months along. The critical point will be the fifth month, when we can assess the risk of miscarriage more clearly. Until then, the best approach is to minimize stress and maintain a nutritious diet. That will give the baby the strongest possible chance."
His gaze softened as he added, "I sincerely hope this time will be different."
I exhaled slowly, absorbing his words. "Hmmm… I suppose we're all searching for answers, clutching at straws," I murmured, my voice laced with weary resignation. "I'll do my best—less stress, healthier food, whatever it takes."
Dr. Noel stood, offering a reassuring nod. "That's all we can do for now, ma'am." He walked to the door, holding it open for me.
As I stepped outside, the crisp air hit my skin, grounding me in the reality of uncertainty. I made my way home, fear and hope warring within me.
Slipping into my bedroom, I sank onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. "God," I whispered, my voice trembling, "please… see me through this. Let this child survive."
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to believe—if only for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, my prayer would be answered.