Surrogate Mom's Battle

The call came when I was folding laundry, the phone's shrill ring cutting through the quiet afternoon like a blade.

"Mrs. Webb? This is Nurse Patel from Memorial Hospital. Your daughter Estrella has been in an accident."

My hands froze mid-fold, a tiny pink sock slipping from my fingers. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"She's alive, but in critical condition. You need to come immediately."

I don't remember dropping the phone or grabbing my keys. The drive to the hospital passed in a blur of red lights and honking horns as I weaved through traffic, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Please God, please God," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. "Please let her be okay."

The hospital's fluorescent lights were too bright, the antiseptic smell burning my nostrils as I ran through the sliding doors. "My daughter, Estrella Fernandez," I gasped to the receptionist. "Where is she?"

"Trauma Room 2," she said, her eyes softening with pity.

I found her small body surrounded by machines, tubes snaking from her arms, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her dark hair, usually so shiny and smooth, lay limp against the white pillow. A doctor in blue scrubs stood beside her, his face grave.

"Mrs. Webb," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Dr. Martinez. Estrella has severe internal bleeding and brain trauma. We need to operate immediately."

"Then do it," I said, reaching for Estrella's hand. It felt so small, so fragile.

"There's a complication." His voice lowered. "The procedure costs $500,000, and your insurance won't cover it without pre-approval. We've stabilized her for now, but she only has 72 hours without the surgery."

My world tilted sideways. "Seventy-two hours?"

"Call your husband," he suggested gently. "You'll need to make decisions quickly."

I nodded numbly, fumbling for my phone. Cooper answered on the fourth ring.

"Sariyah? What is it?"

"Cooper, it's Estrella—she's been in an accident. She needs surgery, and we need to pay $500,000. Please come to Memorial Hospital right now."

There was a pause, then: "I'll be there soon."

Soon turned out to be three hours. Three hours of watching Estrella's monitors beep, of holding her cold hand, of praying to a God I wasn't sure I believed in anymore.

When Cooper finally appeared in the doorway, his tie was perfectly straight, his suit unwrinkled. No panic in his eyes, no fear—just a slight tightening around his mouth.

"What happened?" he asked, not looking at Estrella.

"She was hit by a car walking home from school." My voice cracked. "Cooper, we need money for her surgery. The doctor says she'll die without it."

Something flickered across his face—was it relief? It vanished so quickly I thought I'd imagined it.

"I have bad news," he said, his voice flat. "My company went bankrupt yesterday. We only have $5,000 in the account."

The floor seemed to drop away beneath me. "$5,000? But the surgery costs half a million!"

"I know." He checked his watch. "We'll figure something out."

Figure something