fern blue;

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Breathe, Azura, please
breathe, I wanted to whisper
as I clutched her hand. The
wheelchair rolled down
the halls of the hospital.
The stench tickled my nose:
sadness and death.
She was panting as mother
guided her through the

"Concentrate on your breathing,
love," she whispered as she brushed
away the tangled hair of Azura.
"Keep breathing!"

The doctor led us to the
room filled with nurses as
they prepared Azura for
childbirth. Mom watched through
the glass as she crossed her
fingers and closed her eyes, whispering
words of hope.

Please, Azura, hang in there.

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