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With a deep breath, I lean toward the opening and say the cheesiest thing I can. “Hi, I’m your dad.” I feel awkward and rather silly, but I know it needs to be done. Peyton and I learned about early bonding through the books we read and the classes we took on parenting.
I clear my throat, take another deep breath, and let the tears slide down my face. Silly or not, I need to do this. They need to know who I am and what my voice sounds like.
“Like I said, I’m your dad and I’m so happy you’re finally here. Your mommy is resting but she can’t wait to hold you. So, until she can be here with you, you’re stuck with me, and probably your grandparents. That’s the thing you’ll never fully grasp, but you have this massive family. They’re all waiting in the lobby to meet you. Your Aunties Elle and Paige are going to love you to pieces and spoil the crap out of you, and then there’s your Uncle Quinn—he wants to teach you all about music and art. You’ll get your sports knowledge from me and Uncle Mack. We love our sports, but you know what—your mommy is the smartest when it comes to sports. I wouldn’t have the career I do without her.
“I know you don’t understand a single thing I’m saying. I wish you did though because then you’d know how much you are loved. How your mommy can’t wait to hold you. You see, I know she loves me, but once she gets her hands on you three, I’m moving down the line in the pecking order. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you and being a macho dad, but I’m going to need at least one of you to have my back. Especially when it comes to your mom.
“I don’t know much about being a dad, but I know what it’s like to be a big brother, and boys let me tell you this, it’s your job to protect your sister. She’s going to look up to you. Your mom and I will protect the three of you, but you need to have each other’s backs, always.” I continue to caress their cheeks, hoping my time is spread equally among them. “Thank you for making our family complete.”
“Mr. Westbury?”
“Yes?” I clear my throat.
The curtain parts and another nurse steps in. “Your family is at the window. Would you like to show them the babies?”
I look back at my three. “What do you think?” I know they’re not going to answer me, but at least I gave them the option. After nodding, the nurse opens the curtain and then pulls the incubator toward the window. Despite the thick glass, I can hear each and every one of them oohing and ahhing. They wave, tap the glass, and say, “Hi baby,” as if the triplets can hear them.
The nurse removes the top of the incubator and encourages me to tilt each baby up. I do, giving our family ample viewing.
“When can I hold them?” I ask her, while I have my daughter on display.
“As soon as Dr. Ashford gives you the okay. But from what I’ve seen, you’ll be able to hold your daughter soon. She’s very strong.”
Like her mother.
31
PEYTON
When I wake, it’s dark out. The curtains to my room are open and my husband is cast in a glow thanks to the moonlight streaming through my window. I try not to move much, my stomach hurts where they stapled my stomach back together. Lightly, my hand touches my now empty womb and I find myself fighting back the tears. I know the triplets are here, but that doesn’t assuage the pain I feel from not having them inside me anymore. And it definitely doesn’t help that I haven’t been able to hold them. I saw them briefly when I came out of recovery, thanks to my family. They insisted I be able to at least see them through the window. At least Noah was there with our babies, talking to them. Loving them.
I blink and refocus my eyes on my husband. He’s sleeping in a chair and shirtless. For a moment, the sight of him confuses me. That is until I see he’s holding something. No, not something, but one of our babies.
“Noah.” My voice is hoarse. My throat is dry from the meds. I clear away the roughness and say his name again. I’m about to say it for a third time when I stop myself. He’s sleeping and whomever he’s holding, is sleeping as well. The book says never to wake a sleeping baby unless you’re trying to get them onto a different schedule.
I press the arrow on the control and raise the head portion of my bed. The noise doesn’t wake him and while I am thankful, I’m sort of not. I want to hold the baby and bond with my child. My options are limited. I can’t get out of bed without help and I don’t want to yell. So, I stare at my husband and wait for him to wake.
And I wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
Finally, he stirs and that’s when I see it—the pink hat. My heart zings and races while my throat tightens with emotions. I yearn for her, to see and touch her. To have her with me. I want to nurse and develop a connection with her. The boys as well, but it’ll be days before I can hold them. It should’ve been days before Noah could hold her.
“Noah,” I say again, but this time louder. He opens his eyes and a slow, sexy grin spreads across his face.
“Hey, babe.” He stands and his gray sweatpants sag a bit. I’m thankful it’s just us in the room. He comes toward me, his large hand holding our daughter to his chest. She’s so tiny compared to him. He’ll have no problem holding all three babies at the same time, where I know I’m going to struggle. Tears spill over, wetting my cheeks. Noah by my side instantly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Noah sits in the chair next to my bed. I want him next to me, on this same mattress but I can’t move, not without assistance at least.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “So many emotions.” I wave my hands in front of my face, trying to quell the tears.
“Do you want to hold her?”
I nod furiously and hold my hands out for her. Noah sets our daughter in my arms, and he works to cover her up. “Hi,” I say quietly as my mind works through a barrage of emotions. She’s . . . everything. I choke back a sob as I take in her dark hair, button nose, and puffy cheeks. Her fingers are itty bitty and she’s light as a feather. My finger trails down the side of her face and I swear her cheek lifts in a smile. It’s probably my imagination, but I’m going to let it run and believe my daughter smiled at me.
“We were doing the skin-on-skin bonding,” Noah says as he stands next to me. “You should do it.”
