Megan stared at the stain, horrified. It was too soon--ten weeks too soon. The soft light from the lamp on the night stand not having aroused her soundly sleeping husband, she shook him urgently.
"Mark, we have to get to the hospital!"
Grabbing the phone, Megan dialed the number committed to memory over the past seven months. "This is Megan Jonson. I am going to the hospital, premature labor."
"Dr. Wells will meet you there."
Megan stared at the stain, horrified at first, but chuckled with her next breath. "Sara, that's certainly one way to tell me you didn't want to wear that dress for your dedication. Fortunately, the abundance of blessings from the baby shower means there are lots of other possibilities."
After changing Sara's diaper, Megan wrapped her carefully in a warm blanket, selected another outfit to dress Sara in at church, and joined Mark in the car.
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