Moonlight Delivery by Husband: An Accidental Story

It was the first night of Ramadan. The house was quiet, the bath was warm, and I was sure we had time. But contractions came fast, and my legs wouldn’t lift me. I called my husband—not to deliver a baby, just to help me stand. Minutes later, he was catching our daughter in a towel, calm and steady, as moonlight filtered through the window. No midwife. No panic. Just faith, instinct, and love.