Today’s prompt: If I could relive any day from my past, which day would I choose?

The birth of my son.

A rough day. Ten hours of labor. A baby in distress. Loss of too much blood. Rushed to an operating room for a c-section. The doctor removes my baby. My intestines fill the space he had lived in and grown for nine months. Nurses leave the room with him, my husband following behind, and me stuck on a table while the doctor sews me up.

Me, staring at the door. Waiting. Waiting for them to bring me my son.

Waiting some more.

Knowing nothing.

A seeming eternity later, they bring me a bundle wrapped in a white blanket with a blue hat covering the top of his head.

They place him in my arms. But his face is turned away. I need to see his face. More than anything I need to see his face.

He’s quiet, his eyes closed. But he’s warm. Wriggling. Alive.

The first day of an adventure simultaneously terrifying and exciting.

A day I wouldn’t trade for anything.