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Switching to the 3D scan, I marveled at technology and concentrated on taking in the features of our baby’s face on the screen. My heart squeezed again, and I looked at Harper who was staring at the screen, tears streaming down her face and grinning widely. “Wow,” she whispered, turning to look at me.
The love in her curious eyes threatened to overwhelm me again, and I swallowed past another lump in my throat. Bending down, I kissed my girl softly on her lips as her hand automatically cupped my cheek. The affection in her gaze made my heart swell with love, and I thought what a truly remarkable woman she was to have put up with all the different sides of me she’d witnessed during the time she’d known me.
“Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” My eyes snapped to the technician then back to Harper.
“No. We’ll love it no matter what it is,” Harper quickly replied.
The attendant replaced the transducer back in a cradle at the side of the machine and cleaned Harper’s belly, then I helped her pull her clothing back in place and eased her up to stand.
As we left the scanning room, she tugged on my hand and we ground to a halt. “You did great in there, Cole. I’m so proud of you. We’re halfway there and everything’s going to be okay.” I smiled, grateful for her encouraging words and a little embarrassed that I’d felt so weak before.
Pulling her close, I rubbed my hand gently over her belly through her dress and Harper instantly smiled. “I love you so much, Baby. Thank you for being so brave for the both of us. Your strength is incredible, and I know it’s been hard for you at times, but I promise I’m trying to be a better man.”
“You’re doing just fine as you are, Cole. You’re the man I fell in love with, and I’d rather have you with all your honest flaws, than a man with no feelings. Your past is bound to have shaped you. If anything, I’d probably be more worried if we were sailing through this and you were blocking it all out.”
Waving the small envelope with the 3D and other scan pictures in it, Harper’s eyes brightened and a grin spread over her face. “Come on, I can’t wait to share these with Layla. What’s the bet that as soon as she sees them, the first thing she’ll say is ‘Oh look, our baby has ears’?”
We both laughed heartily, and I pulled her into my side, gave her an affectionate peck on her forehead, and we made our way back to the car. Hope rose inside me for the first time since I learned she was expecting our new baby.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
As each month went by, I got more used to Karen, the older of the two midwives, visiting us at home. Greeting her like she was an old friend, Harper appeared relaxed and felt confident she’d made the right choice about where she wanted our baby to be born.
As the due date drew nearer, the midwife service visits became more frequent and Harper arranged some of them to coincide with when Layla was at home. Personally, the thought of Layla being present at the birth freaked me the fuck out. I had no idea what to expect myself. I’d never attended a natural birth… or a birth of any kind for that matter, and at the back of my mind I figured Layla may herself back out when she saw Harper in pain.
Karen encouraged me to express all my concerns and reassured me I wasn’t unique in being worried about the birth, reassuring me my feelings were the same as most fathers. While Harper was dealing with Layla at one point, Karen asked me how I thought Harper was coping, and when I called Harper an Earth Mother, the midwife’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“You know this term?” she probed.
“Yeah, Harper’s an angel and a natural mother. She cares for everyone and sees everything in the simplest terms. She takes everything in her stride. Apart from the biological aspect, Harper’s been a true mother in every other sense of the word to Layla. Even before we got together, she always challenged me if I went against the grain to what she believed was in Layla’s best interests.”
Since we’d been to visit Harper’s parents, and I’d broken the ice with them, her mom and sister had made more of an effort to visit, but it was apparent to me none of her family were close. I guessed some just weren’t. Part of me wondered if Harper’s closeness with Layla filled a void she’d missed out on herself.
No matter the reason, I was deeply grateful she’d come into our lives. When I thought back to my conversation with JoAnn, it challenged me to look objectively at how I now treated Layla. It had made me realize how special Harper was, because if it hadn’t been for Harper’s care and encouragement of me, my daughter may well have felt how JoAnn did about her father.
“Your belly looks like a huge pumpkin. It’s going to burst,” Layla advised Harper as she lay back on the couch with her T-shirt pulled up and her belly sticking out.
“Our baby is growing fast now,” Harper informed Layla, as my daughter stroked her bump over and over.
“Wow, did you see that, Daddy?” Layla asked in an excited tone, as the baby’s movement rippled beneath Harper’s taut skin.
“Yeah, watch this,” I told Layla as I crawled over the floor on my hands and knees and placed my lips to Harper’s belly, I began to sing “Baby I Love You,” by The Ramones. What neither Layla nor Harper knew was it was the tune I used to sing to Layla before she was born. There was something about this song that touched my heart and it had made every playlist I’d ever put together.
Halfway through the song, I glanced up at Layla and noticed she was sitting back on her knees beside Harper, swaying gently to the song, and Harper’s bump began to roll back and forth from left to right, in the same way Layla had when she was inside Grace.
“Oh, look, our baby is dancing to Daddy’s song,” she marveled, her eyes glittering with excitement.
Gently, Harper caressed my head and my throat immediately constricted. Suddenly, my voice cracked, the emotion of the moment preventing me from continuing and I sat up. Tears spilled from Harper’s eyes and Layla immediately cuddled her.
“What’s wrong, my Harper?” she asked, her little voice full of concern.
“Nothing at all, Baby, I’m really happy,” she replied, pulling Layla and me forward to cuddle us both at the same time.
I glanced, concerned for Layla, and noted again it was the second time she’d used the word my before Harper. “Why do you say my Harper?” I probed.
“Because you say my girl. She’s not my girl, she’s my Harper,” Layla explained with a shrug. Harper and I shot each other a look that said we’d come back to this later and let it slide.
Later that night in bed, I thought about what Layla said again. In fact, Harper and the new baby’s status had been on my mind since the day she’d told me she was pregnant. Although I regarded all of them as mine, it began to bug me that Harper and the baby would have different names to Layla and me.
