Another baby? Youve got to be kidding! Eleanor Smith slammed the ultrasound results onto the kitchen table. Four generations of men in our family have worked on the railway! And what have you brought home now?
Poppy, Emily whispered, rubbing her belly. Well call her Poppy.
Poppy the motherinlaw stretched the name out. At least its a decent name. But whats she going to be? Who needs a Poppy?
James stayed glued to his phone. When Emily asked his opinion he simply shrugged.
Whatever comes, comes. Maybe next time itll be a boy.
Emily felt something tighten inside. Next time? Was this little one just a rehearsal?
Poppy arrived in January tiny, bigeyed, a mop of dark hair. James only showed up for the discharge, lugging a bunch of carnations and a sack of baby stuff.
Lovely, he said, peering cautiously into the pram. She looks just like you.
And that nose of yours, Emily laughed. And that stubborn chin.
Enough, James waved him off. All the kids look the same at that age.
Eleanor met them at the door with a sour expression.
The neighbour Violet asked if it was a grandson or a granddaughter. It was embarrassing to answer, she muttered. At my age Im still playing with dolls
Emily curled up in the nursery and quietly wept, pulling her daughter close.
James started pulling extra shifts, hopping onto other lines, taking overtime wherever he could. He kept saying the family was a costly one, especially with a child. Hed come home late, exhausted and quiet.
Shes waiting for you, Emily would say whenever he passed the nursery without even glancing in. Poppy always lights up when she hears your steps.
Im knackered, Em. Ive got an early start tomorrow.
But you havent even said hello to her
Shes too little to understand.
But Poppy understood. Emily watched her turn her head toward the door the moment Jamess footsteps echoed, then stare into nothing once they faded away.
At eight months Poppy fell ill. Her temperature first spiked to 38°C, then 39°C. Emily called an ambulance, but the doctor said they could try paracetamol at home. By morning the fever hit 40°C.
James, get up! Emily urged him. Poppys really badly off!
What time is it? James squinted open his eyes.
Seven. Ive been up all night with her. We need to get to the hospital.
Its that early? Maybe well wait till the evening? Ive got an important shift tonight
Emily looked at him as if he were a stranger.
Your daughters burning up and youre thinking about a shift?
Shes not dying, love. Kids get sick all the time.
She booked a taxi herself.
At the hospital the doctors whisked Poppy straight to the infection ward. They suspected a serious inflammation and needed a lumbar puncture.
Wheres the father? the consultant asked. We need consent from both parents.
Hes at work. Hell be here soon.
Emily rang James all day. His phone was off. At seven in the evening he finally answered.
Em, Im at the depot, dealing with
James, Poppy has meningitis! They need your consent for the puncture now!
What? A puncture? I dont understand
Come straight away!
I cant, my shift ends at eleven. Ive already sorted things with the lads
Emily silently hung up. The consent was signed by the mother alone she had the legal right. The puncture was done under general anaesthetic. Poppy looked like a tiny doll on the big operating table.
Results tomorrow, the doctor said. If it is meningitis, treatment will be long about a month and a half in hospital.
Emily stayed overnight in the ward. Poppy lay pale under the drip, chest rising only faintly.
James showed up the next day for lunch, looking gaunt and weary.
Hows she? he asked, hesitant to step into the room.
Not good, Emily replied shortly. The test results arent back yet.
What did they do to her? This whats her name again?
A lumbar puncture. Took fluid from her spine for testing.
James went white.
Did it hurt her?
She was under anaesthetic, didnt feel a thing.
He stood by the cot, watching Poppy asleep, a tiny hand tucked over a catheter.
Shes so small, James muttered. I never imagined
Emily said nothing.
The lab came back: no meningitis, just a nasty viral infection with complications. She could be treated at home with a doctors oversight.
Lucky us, the consultant said. A day or two longer and it could have been much worse.
On the drive home James was quiet. Only when they pulled up to the house did he ask softly,
Am I really that bad? A proper dad?
Emily shifted Poppy to a comfier position and looked at him.
What do you think?
I always thought Id have plenty of time. That shes tiny, she wont understand anything. But then I saw her there, tubes and all I realised I could lose her. And losing something matters.
James, she needs a father, not just a breadwinner. A dad who knows her name, who knows her favourite toys.
Which are? he asked quietly.
Her rubber hedgehog and that little rattle with bells. When you get home she always crawls to the door, waiting for you to pick her up.
James lowered his head.
I didnt know
Now you do.
At home Poppy woke and let out a soft whine. James instinctively reached for her, but stopped.
Can I? he asked Emily.
Shes your daughter.
He lifted her gently. She sniffled, then settled, gazing up at his face with big, serious eyes.
Hello, little one, James whispered. Sorry I wasnt there when you were scared.
Poppy tugged her tiny hand to his cheek and brushed it. A lump rose in Jamess throat hed never felt before.
Daddy, she said clearly.
That was her first word.
James stared at Emily, eyes wide.
She she said
Shes been trying for a week, Emily smiled. Just waited for the right moment when you werent home.
That night, after Poppy fell asleep on Jamess lap, he carefully placed her back in her cot. She didnt stir, only clenched his finger tighter in her sleep.
She doesnt want to let go, James said, surprised.
Shes scared youll disappear again, Emily explained.
He sat by the cot for another half hour, reluctant to free his hand.
Im taking a day off tomorrow, he told Emily. And the day after that too. I want to get to know my daughter properly.
What about work? The extra shifts?
Well find another way to earn. Maybe live a bit more modestly. The point is not to miss her growing up.
Emily wrapped her arms around him.
Better late than never.
Id never forgive myself if something happened and I didnt even know which toys she loved, James murmured, looking at his sleeping girl. Or that she could say daddy.
A week later, fully recovered, the three of them went to the park. Poppy perched on Jamess shoulders, squealing as she grabbed at autumn leaves.
Look at that, Poppy! James pointed at the golden maples. And theres a squirrel!
Emily walked beside them, thinking how sometimes you have to almost lose the most precious thing to realise its true value.
Eleanor met them at the door with a disgruntled face.
James, Violet told me her grandson is already playing football. And yours? Just dolls.
My daughters the best in the world, James replied calmly, setting Poppy on the floor and handing her the rubber hedgehog. And dolls are wonderful.
But the family line will break
It wont. Itll continue, just in a different shape.
Eleanor tried to argue, but Poppy waddled over, grabbed her hands and shouted,
Grandma! she beamed.
The old lady, flustered, took the little girl in her arms.
She shes talking! she gasped.
Our Poppy is very clever, James said proudly. Right, love?
Daddy! Poppy cheered, clapping her hands.
Emily watched the scene and thought about how happiness often comes through trials, and that the deepest love is the one that isnt instant but matures slowly, forged by fear and loss.
That night, as James sang a lullaby in his low, slightly hoarse voice, Poppy listened with wide eyes.
Youve never sung to her before, Emily noted.
Ive missed a lot, James admitted. But now Ive got time to make up for it.
Poppy drifted off, clutching Jamess finger. He stayed there in the dark, listening to her breathing, wondering how many moments hed have missed if he hadnt stopped and looked up. She smiled in her sleep, now knowing her dad wasnt going anywhere.
One of our readers sent this story in. Sometimes destiny doesnt just ask for a choice, it hands you a test to wake the brightest feelings in a person. Do you believe a person can truly change when they realise they might lose what they love most?
