Tom, weve got a girl, threepointfive kilos! Emily announced brightly over the phone.
I was standing beneath the windows of St.Marys maternity ward, waving at my wife, who cradled the newborn in her arms.
Its a daughter. Im a father! Emily, werent we supposed to have a boy?
Silence hung in the line for a heartbeat, then my wife whispered,
They must have mixedup the paperwork
I turned and walked past the jubilant fathers drawing hearts on the pavement, letting helium balloons drift skyward, past the polished cars and clusters of relatives gathered around them.
All my life Id imagined a sona heir, a continuation of the family line. While Emily was pregnant, I painted pictures of our future: us kicking a ball around the back garden, us out on a fishing trip, mens banter over a fresh catch, and evenings when wed all sit around the table, recounting the days events, my son beside me, my pride.
Emily had struggled to conceive for years. We consulted a renowned specialistone of the countrys leading consultantsand only after five long years did she finally share the good news.
Tom, you hear that? a voice called from behind. I turned to see Paul, my old university mate.
How long has it been? he asked, eyes crinkling.
Just got back from my mothers, a bit under the weather, needed a break. Shes alone now; my dad passed about five years ago. And you?
Im heading out of the maternity ward; my wife just gave birth to a daughter.
Congratulations! Why arent you smiling? I grinned.
He glanced around, spotted a café a stones throw away and suggested we pop in for a chat.
So youve finally got a boy? he said, halfjoking. We all wait for a lad, an heir; thats normal. I was once in your shoes, gearing up to be a father of a son, only to welcome a daughter.
Hows your family? Did they come with you?
Paul lowered his eyes, fell silent for a moment, then looked at me with a weight of sorrow that seemed to hold the whole universe.
Im on my own now, no family left. Tom, this isnt the right time for me; youve got your joy.
What happened?
An accident I dont want to talk about it. Ive been alone for a year, thinking of moving back with my mother, finding work, fixing up my flat.
We lingered over coffee, reminiscing about university days, mutual friends, swapping plans for the future. I gave Paul my number, telling him he could ring anytime, day or night.
The next morning I rushed to the maternity wards windows with a massive bouquet of Emilys favourite peonies and a bunch of balloons tied to my wrist.
Emily! I shouted, hearing her familiar voice crackle through the handset.
Forgive me! Im overjoyed about our longawaited daughter! What does she look like?
She looks just like you, Tom, cheeky as ever!
Really? I felt like a complete idiot yesterday
No need to apologise, I understand
My wife cut me off,
Tom, shes healthy, calm, eats and sleeps, even smiles in her sleep. Well be discharged soon; youll see for yourself.
P.S. We never had any more children; the birth was difficult and left her with lasting health issues. Twenty years later our daughter grew up brilliant and beautiful, and were immensely proud of her. Paul became her godfather. Im still grateful for that conversation; it opened my eyes and, above all, taught me to value and love everyone who stands by me now.