By the time Nora Whitfield stepped out of Maternal-Fetal Medicine, she had already been told twice to avoid unnecessary stress.

That would have been funny if she hadn't been so tired.

At thirty-nine and twenty-eight weeks pregnant, Nora had become accustomed to doctors using phrases like advanced maternal age, monitor closely, and just to be safe. Her blood pressure had been slightly elevated that morning, though not enough to send anyone into a panic. The baby looked healthy. Her heartbeat was strong. Everything that mattered most was still okay.

Nora should have felt relieved.

Instead, she was sitting in a hospital hallway arguing with her insurance company.

"I'm not asking you to erase the bill," she said into her phone, lowering her voice as a nurse passed. "I'm asking why nobody told me the test might be considered out of network."

The representative repeated something about coding and provider status.

Nora closed her eyes.

The disputed amount was $1,387.

Five months earlier, that number would have upset her.

Now it represented a crib, part of the hospital deductible, several weeks of groceries, or enough diapers to build a small fortress.

Her husband, Evan, would normally have come to the appointment, but he'd already burned through too much paid time off accompanying her to previous scans. They had agreed he should save the rest for the delivery.

It was practical.

Nora hated practicality.

"I need the claim reviewed," she said.

The representative placed her on hold.

Tinny instrumental music filled her ear.

Nora lowered herself into one of the vinyl chairs lining the hallway and rested her palm over the hard curve of her belly.

"Your timing is excellent," she murmured when the baby kicked.

"Can she hear you?"

Nora looked up.

A little girl sat three chairs away.

Eight, maybe nine. Brown hair in a messy ponytail. Purple sneakers. A backpack with a silver key chain shaped like a moon.

Nora glanced around for a parent.

The girl pointed toward the vending machines.

"My dad's getting water. My mom's in there."

She nodded toward the women's clinic.

Nora smiled.

"Then yes. Supposedly the baby can hear me."

"Does she know you're her mom?"

"I hope so."

The girl studied Nora's stomach.

"Does she kick?"

"Constantly."

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes."

The girl thought about that.

"Do you still like her when it hurts?"

Nora almost laughed.

"Most of the time."

That earned the smallest smile.

The insurance representative returned to the line, and Nora spent another three minutes repeating her information before being told the claim required a secondary review.

When she hung up, the girl was still watching her.

"I'm Mia," she said.

"Nora."

Mia swung her feet beneath the chair.

"Do babies cost a lot?"

That question was less cute.

Nora considered how to answer.

"They can."

"Like... a lot a lot?"

"Sometimes."

Mia nodded as if confirming something.

Then she asked, "When the baby comes, do you love everybody else less?"

Nora's hand stopped on her belly.

"What makes you ask that?"

Mia shrugged too quickly.

"Nothing."

"Usually when someone says nothing, it's something."

Mia looked down at her purple sneakers.

"There's only so much of everything."

"Of what?"

"Money. Time. Rooms. Stuff."

Nora waited.

Mia picked at the edge of her backpack strap.

"If you get another person, everybody gets less."

The words landed more heavily than they should have.

Nora knew something about being afraid a new baby could take another person's place.

Two years earlier, she had lost a pregnancy at seventeen weeks. For months afterward, she couldn't walk past the baby section of a store without feeling like someone had pressed a thumb into a bruise.

When she became pregnant again, happiness came tangled with guilt.

For weeks she'd wondered whether loving this child so fiercely meant betraying the one she had lost.

Evan had finally said something she never forgot.

This baby isn't taking anybody's place.

Nora looked at Mia.

"A family isn't exactly like a pie," she said. "You don't cut everybody smaller because someone new shows up."

Mia's jaw tightened.

Nora continued gently.

"A new baby doesn't replace anybody."

The change was immediate.

Mia's eyes widened.

Her face crumpled.