It Was Supposed to Be an Ordinary Baptism — Until Our Baby’s Heart Stopped (2 of 3)

He was a gentle man, gray-haired and soft-spoken. He greeted us with a warm smile, though as his gaze fell on our son, something flickered in his expression—something I didn’t understand.

We walked to the font, that ancient marble basin where generations of babies had been blessed. I remember my hands trembling a little as I unwrapped the blanket. My son kicked his tiny feet, completely oblivious to the moment’s gravity.

Father Callahan reached out to take him. And that’s when it happened.

He paused. His hands hovered for a moment, hesitant. Then he took our son in his arms and cradled him close, peering down as if searching for something in his face. The silence felt thick and unnatural. I looked at my husband, who frowned in confusion.

“This…this is impossible,” the priest whispered, so low I almost thought I’d imagined it.

I felt a cold rush climb my spine. My husband cleared his throat. “Father? Is something wrong?”

But Father Callahan didn’t answer right away. He was staring at our baby like he was seeing something no one else could. For a second, I thought I’d collapse right there on the cold stone floor.

The entire church had fallen into uneasy quiet. Even the candles seemed to flicker lower. My son reached up, resting one tiny hand on the priest’s chest. His little fingers splayed across the black vestments, and Father Callahan flinched as though he’d been burned.

“What is it?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I meant. “What’s impossible?”

The priest swallowed hard, eyes locked on our child. “His heart,” he murmured finally, voice cracking. “It… It stopped.”