We’re barely out of the office. “Enzo, I—”
“It’s not up for discussion. Are you not worried about your own health?”
I am scared; we didn’t come this far to lose her. I’m not going to argue with him.
I’m not sure if Enzo is working from home because he doesn’t trust me to stay in bed or what. I am sure I love it. He even brings his laptop in to work on the bed with me for a few hours a day. We read everything we can, for the hundredth time, about the first weeks of a baby coming home, cramming for the test that’s due any minute.
Just when everything feels settled into a routine after a week, it happens. My back has been aching all day. I thought it was the way I was sitting in bed. In the middle of the night I wake with the need to pee. Sitting up, I’m ashamed when I think I’ve peed the bed, only to process it wasn’t pee.
“Enzo.” I shake him awake. “My water broke
.”
He shoots up from bed and impresses the hell out of me with how fast he moves. We’re in the car and on the way to the hospital only six minutes after I woke him up.
Seven hours later, I’m thinking he had no need to be so quick. Our daughter is taking her sweet time.
“Lillian is due to land in another hour. She’s wondering if she’ll make it?” Enzo asks.
“I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine,” I grumble.
“Ice chips, Chloe?” Bethany offers. I shake my head. “How about we try walking the hall again?”
“Do I have to?” A nurse is checking my blood pressure for what I swear is the fiftieth time since we got here. Her eyes go wide. She yanks a phone off the wall beside the bed. I don’t understand a word she says.
“What?”
“We’re going to get you prepped for cesarean. Your doctor is delivering another baby, two floors down. We’re going to let her know to get her up here. If not, we do have our top obstetrician here who can stand in.”
I nod, my throat has closed up. I clutch my stomach. I don’t feel anything different; oh shit, what if it’s because I don’t feel anything? I press low where I know the baby hates it. She kicks in answer. Thank god.
Holy fuck, the epidural has me screaming as I clutch Enzo’s hand. As I’m being wheeled into the operating room, I’m relieved when I see my doctor.
“My goodness, your daughter knows how to make an entrance.” Whitney chuckles.
Enzo is muttering reassuring things I can barely take in. His hand is squeezing mine so tight I want to ask him to stop, only I don’t dare. I hear her cry, then for some crazy reason I’m crying. They show her to me; she’s so beautiful, I mean not really because she’s still covered in white pasty something, but the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen covered in white pasty stuff. I’m a little jealous Enzo is holding her, except not really when he’s so happy.
It feels like it takes a really long time for them to finish and wheel me back to the room. I’m finally handed my daughter. After all this time, she’s real, she’s here, she’s beautiful. Someone cleaned her up completely and she really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her gray eyes are like mine, and when I look in them, love swells up then explodes inside me, radiating through every cell in my body. My head goes down against hers, as I hold this moment close.
I blink when I realize I’m crying on her. When I raise my head Enzo is already wiping my tears away. His smile is soft, sweet. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head. “Thank you. She’s gorgeous, just like her mama. Do you think her eyes will stay gray?”
“I hope so. She really is prettier than any other baby I’ve ever seen.” I sigh. Her head is perfectly round with soft silky black hair, her nose is so cute, and her lips are the most adorable cupid bow she keeps smacking together.
“She’s gorgeous.” I sigh.
“I agree.” Enzo chuckles. “What do you think, is she a Lillian?”
We had talked about Lillian as a name to honor my grandmother, only as I look at her I shake my head. “Allegra,” I whisper. She stills and her little hands come together; I swear her head goes down in a yes. I look to Enzo. “What do you think? I look at her and joy fills me to my tiptoes.”
“Seems like she likes it. What do you think, Allegra?” She makes a snuffling sound as she brings her tiny hand to her mouth. “I think that’s a yes.”
“Okay, Mommy, do you want to try breastfeeding now?” the nurse who brought Allegra in asks.
I shake my head. “I’m not breastfeeding.”
“Right, I apologize. I’ll get some bottles made up. Guess what that means, Dad? You’re up for midnight feedings. Hope you got a good night’s sleep because those are a thing of the past.”