[COMPLETED BUT WONT LET ME PRESS THE COMPLETED BUTTON AHAHHA]
Aurora Lockheart was once the sunshine girl-bright, kind, and full of life. But one night changed everything, leaving her a shadow of who she used to be.
A year later, just as she's be...
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May 20, 2011
Someone's honeymoon clearly went well, which is why we were sitting here at 2 a.m. in a quiet, dimly lit hospital room, a tiny miracle nestled in my arms. Aurora had finally given birth. After years of trying, years of heartache and doctors telling her it wasn't possible, here we were, holding our daughter, Bethany.
I looked over at Aurora, her face peaceful as she slept, brunette hair spread out like a fan on the hospital pillow, her chest rising and falling in gentle, steady breaths. She looked like she was glowing even in her sleep, exhaustion from hours of labor finally giving way to rest.
"You're finally letting your mammy sleep, aren't you?" I whispered to Bethany, who looked up at me with these wide, beautiful blue eyes, so curious even at only a few hours old. It was hard to believe she was real—she was so tiny, so perfect, it was like she wasn't quite part of this world yet. Except for those eyes, those were unmistakably Aurora's.
Bethany let out a little sigh, and I could've sworn she smiled at me, even if it was just a newborn reflex. She was beautiful, wrapped in that soft pink blanket, already stealing my heart. Not that she hadn't done that long before I even laid eyes on her.
"Can you believe how far we've come to meet you, Bethy?" I murmured, brushing my thumb across her tiny hand. Her tiny fingers instinctively wrapped around my thumb, and I felt something shift, deep in my chest—a sense of peace and joy I couldn't quite explain. "You're named after someone very special, you know. Your aunt Bethany. She'd have loved you more than anything."
In those quiet moments, memories of my sister came flooding back—the way she'd laugh, the kindness in her eyes. I hoped Bethany would carry some of that same strength, that same warmth. Aurora and I hadn't even needed to discuss the name; it just felt right, like Bethany was meant to be here, a little piece of both our pasts and our future.
And yet, I couldn't help but remember Aurora's first reaction to our daughter's grand entrance. As soon as Bethany was out, with all the drama of any newborn, Aurora had leaned her head back, eyes wide, and blurted out, "Why does she look like an alien?" I'd nearly burst out laughing right there, the relief and joy making everything feel almost surreal. But Bethany did look a bit squished, red and crinkly, her eyes shut tight like she was furious at the world for disturbing her. It was an image I'd never forget.
Now, though, she was settled, her little face relaxed, her soft blond hair already showing hints of the same honey tone Aurora and her mam had. It was uncanny how much she looked like them. I couldn't shake the feeling that if Aurora's man were still here, she would have been over the moon to meet her granddaughter, delighting in that undeniable family resemblance.
And then there was the small birthmark near Bethany's eye, identical to the one Aurora had inherited from her mother. It was a subtle reminder of the woman who had brought Aurora into this world and who should have been here to witness this moment. I imagined her laughter and joy, how she would have held Bethany close and cooed over her, calling her a perfect little angel. The thought both warmed and broke my heart, a bittersweet mix of love and loss.
Aurora stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she looked over at us, a slow, sleepy smile spreading across her face.
"Is she behaving herself?" she asked softly, her voice a little hoarse.
"Like a princess," I whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. "Just like her mammy."
