
It was supposed to be a routine drive to the hospital. Anna, 28 weeks pregnant, had just started feeling contractions, but they were spaced out and manageable. Her husband, David, insisted they goājust to be safe. They hopped in the car under the soft glow of the early morning sky, unaware of what lay ahead.
But ten minutes into the drive, the contractions escalated. Fast. Violent. Anna clutched her belly and screamed as another wave hit. āItās too soon!ā she gasped. Davidās knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as he sped through empty roads, heart pounding.
Then traffic. A stalled semi blocked the highway just outside of town. There was no detour, no shoulder to pass through. Thatās when Annaās water broke.
Panicked but focused, David called 911. The dispatcher coached him through the birth, but the baby wasnāt waiting for help to arrive. On the shoulder of Interstate 84, with the sounds of morning traffic beginning to stir and sirens still minutes away, Anna gave birth in the front seat of their car.
David wrapped their newborn daughter in his flannel jacket, tears streaking down his face. Moments later, paramedics arrived, shocked to see a crying baby already safe in her motherās arms.
They named her Grace ā because nothing else could better describe the miracle of that morning.