At my cousin’s wedding reception, we were seated having our meal when my family arrived late and started greeting everyone loudly. I was eight months pregnant and couldn’t stand up easily to greet them from my chair. My mother demanded, “Get up from that chair right now. Your sister needs to sit.” I refused. “She’s only 2 months pregnant. I’m 8 months.” I stayed seated. My father walked over and k/i/c/k/ed my chair hard from behind, making me f a. l l backwards. I landed on my pregnant belly and my water b r/ oke all over the floor. My mom… / Chapter 1 / 40

Chapter 1 - The Amber Light

The ballroom glowed with a soft, amber light radiating from the massive crystal chandeliers above.

It cast a warm, beautiful reflection across the polished hardwood dance floor and the pristine, ivory tablecloths. Everything in the space had been meticulously designed to evoke a sense of warmth, formality, and safety—the exact kind of place where families gathered to toast to love and new beginnings. My cousin Bridget’s wedding reception had, up until this point, been absolutely wonderful, the kind of evening people would fondly recall for years to come.

I remember specifically thinking about how peaceful the moment felt as I sat quietly at table number seven, resting my hands gently on my growing belly.

I was eight months pregnant, exactly thirty-two weeks along, and every single movement required a calculated effort. Sitting, standing, or even shifting my weight in the heavy banquet chair demanded a careful consideration of balance and breathing. My daughter shifted inside me, a gentle, fluttering reminder of why I was trying my absolute best to stay calm and grounded in the present moment.

My husband, Daniel, had stepped out about twenty minutes prior to take an urgent work call in our car. It was a frequent occurrence given his demanding career as a federal prosecutor. He had apologized profusely, pressed a warm kiss to my forehead, and promised he would be right back.