I became a surrogate for my brother — but when he saw his newborn daughter, he said, “I can’t take this baby,”

He exhaled and said, “Look at her back. We can’t do this.”

I hadn’t looked yet. I’d been so focused on his face that I hadn’t unwrapped the blanket.

My brother wouldn’t look at her.

With trembling fingers, I turned the baby gently onto her side and pulled the fabric down just enough.

There, at the base of her spine, was a small reddish mark. A soft, raised area, covered by skin, no bigger than a quarter.

I knew what it was. I’d read the pamphlets they sent home. My stomach turned over, and I nearly fainted.

“It’s spina bifida,” I whispered.

Melissa made a sound I hope I never hear again.

I turned the baby gently onto her side.

It wasn’t a word. It was a scream that filled the whole hallway, and I heard footsteps running.

“No. No, no, no,” my SIL kept saying. “The ultrasounds were fine! They said she was fine! They said she was fine, Ryan!”