For kiki: DeAndre Yedlin

When you and DeAndre found out that you were pregnant, the both of you were extremely excited. Since DeAndre played for Tottenham Hotspur, you spent the duration of your pregnancy in London, England. It was a new environment for you, but you were excited to raise your child there or any city that DeAndre would be playing in.

Your pregnancy was smooth in the beginning, with the occasional morning sickness episode. But, the doctor assured you that it was a normal part of pregnancy and to not panic over it. So when you went into labor six weeks out of your due date, you started to freak out. You had just been walking around the house when an intense pain hit you in the stomach. Blood had started to appear, which is when you called for an ambulance.

You passed out on the way to the hospital and the paramedics contacted DeAndre through your cell phone. He rushed to the hospital, arriving just minutes after the ambulance had unloaded you into the emergency room. They had rushed you into an emergency C-Section while DeAndre paced back and forth outside of the operating room, as they wouldn't let him inside it.

As he paced, millions of scenarios filtered through his brain. His concern for your health and the health of the baby only grew as he watched the second hand on the clock click forward. He could have worn a hole in the floor with the amount of pacing he was doing. A doctor emerged from the operating room and DeAndre rushed at him like a rabid dog.

"How is she? Is the baby okay? Is she okay?" DeAndre rambled on until the doctor held up a hand, motioning for DeAndre to stop speaking.

"Your girlfriend is okay. She's still asleep, but she's slowly coming to. Your child, on the other hand, is not doing the best," the doctor sighed. DeAndre's heart fell into his stomach as his legs started to shake.

"Is the baby . . . ?" DeAndre couldn't pull himself together enough to say that one word. That one four lettered word he couldn't let slip past his lips.

"Your child is still alive. We've rushed the baby to the ICU for infants and monitoring your child's vitals as we speak. We're doing all we can, Mr. Yedlin," the doctor replied. DeAndre could only nod. The doctor disappeared back into the operating room. That's when DeAndre lost it. The tears started to flow and he dropped to his knees, head in his hands. How had everything gone so wrong?

A nurse emerged from the operating room to see DeAndre in the hallway. "I can show you to your girlfriend now, Mr. Yedlin, if you would like," the nurse said quietly. DeAndre nodded, looking up from his hands, before standing up to his full height. Shoulders slouched, cheeks red and puffy, DeAndre followed the nurse into your hospital room. "She's right in here."

DeAndre nodded, thanking the nurse quietly before stepping into the room. The nurse shut the door behind him and it was just the two of you. You had rolled onto your side, facing the window, back to DeAndre. He walked forward slowly, reaching your bed. Placing a feather touch on your shoulder, you instantly tensed as more tears started to fall. No words were said between the two of you, no words needed to be said about the matter.

You looked up at DeAndre through tear lined eyelashes. When he didn't smile and tell you that the baby was okay, you broke down once more. Sitting on the bed next to you, DeAndre pulled you into a tight hug. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and let the tears flow more, your arms nearly squeezing the life out of him. DeAndre hugged you back just as tightly as he also let the stream of tears fall. That night, you sat in the bed as DeAndre stood watching the busy London streets light up. People were going about their day, not plagued by the struggle of life and death that you and DeAndre were facing. At the six hour mark since you had delivered your baby, your hope was a mere sliver.

DeAndre continued to pace in front of the window as you played with your hair as you waited for a nurse or doctor to walk into the room and deliver the bad news the two of you were mentally preparing yourselves for. The tenth hour mark rolled around when the door handle jiggled. You and DeAndre immediately stiffened as the door slowly opened, revealing the doctor that had deliver your baby and the nurse that had shown DeAndre to your room.

"Mr. Yedlin, Ms. (Y/L/N)," the doctor stated, closing the door behind himself. DeAndre walked to your side, taking your hand in his own and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Yes, Doctor?" DeAndre finally said.

"I have good news and I have bad news, which would you like to hear first?"

"Good news," you stated quickly.

"Your daughter is alive and responding well to treatment. We're sure she'll make it through the night just fine, although we will have a nurse monitoring her twenty four seven for the next week until her statistics reach a certain level." You and DeAndre let out a heavy sigh of relief, holding onto each other tightly.

"What's the bad news?"

"Your daughter could remain in the ICU department for up to six weeks. And until she reaches a certain weight, there is not guarantee that she will fully make it," the doctor replied.

"Can we see her?"

"Of course. We'll just get you a wheelchair first," the doctor smiled, motioning for the nurse to go grab one. She returned with one moments later, helping you into the wheelchair. DeAndre pushed you through the halls as the nurse and doctor led the way. You reached a small room off of the neo natal corridor. Inside the room was an incubator and a nurse monitoring vital signs in the corner.

DeAndre wheeled you over to the incubator as the two of you stared down at your child in awe. She was very tiny, way tinier than she should have been when she was born. Tubes were run throughout the incubator and you choked back a sob. DeAndre rubbed your shoulders as he too tried to hold back tears. "You two will have to name her, you know. We haven't been able to put a name on her incubator yet," the nurse in the corner smiled.

You and DeAndre exchange looks before the perfect name filtered into your brain. "Brayleigh, it means ray of hope," you stated, looking up at DeAndre questioningly.

"Brayleigh Yedlin it is," DeAndre smiled, looking lovingly down at your daughter.

Ten, twenty years into the future, when people asked your daughter why she was named Brayleigh, she simply smiled and said, "I'm just a ray of hope."