I never imagined that the most important day of my life would begin with a scream.

My name is María Fernández, and thirty years ago, in a public hospital in Seville, I gave birth to five babies.

The labor was endless. My body felt torn apart by pain, exhaustion, and fear. When I finally lost consciousness, I remember thinking—please, let them be alive. When I woke up, the room was quiet except for the soft beeping of machines and the distant sounds of footsteps in the corridor.

Then I saw them.

Five cribs, lined up carefully in front of my bed.

They were so small. So fragile. Wrapped in identical white blankets.