I was only 72 centimeters tall. My bones were fragile, my body was very weak, and since childhood, doctors had told me I had to live carefully—very carefully.
But my biggest dream was never small.
I wanted to become a mother.
When I found out I was pregnant, joy was not the first thing that came. The first thing was silence. The doctors’ silence.
They looked at me as if they could already see my end.
“Stacey, your body won’t survive this. The baby could press against your lungs, your heart… you could die.”
That day, I returned home without saying a word.
That night, while Will was asleep, I placed my hand on my belly and whispered:
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