Page 137 of Falling in Love with Two
“I swear.”
They’re moving around for what feels like an eternity, but honestly, it’s probably only about ten minutes or so. It’s the longest ten minutes of my entire life.
Dylan watches the doctors and tells me what is happening since all I can see is the giant blue sheet blocking my view.
Finally, he says, “She’s out. They’ve got her. You should see all her hair!”
A team of people come grab her and take her across the operating room.
“Why isn’t she crying?” I ask, panicked.
“It’s okay. They’re working on her. Let’s just let the doctors do their thing.”
I hold my breath, scared that the sound of my breathing will keep me from being able to hear what’s going on. The doctors put me back together, but I’m paying no attention at this point.
Why the fuck isn’t she crying?
I prepare myself for the worst.
But then, she lets out a loud wail. Moments later, she’s screaming her head off.
I exhale a sigh of relief and tell Dylan, “Go over there and check on her.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll be fine. Go see our daughter.”
He disappears from my line of sight, and I thank God for letting this situation not take a turn for the worst. I’ve never been very religious, but I feel like I need to thank someone for this moment.
A couple minutes later, Dylan walks over with our daughter wrapped up in a blanket in his arms.
He looks down at her. “Let’s go see Mommy.”
Sitting back down, he holds her up so that I can see her. I’ve pictured what she would look like a million times, but I never thought she would be this perfect.
“She’s beautiful,” I say as tears stream down my face.
“She is,” he agrees. “She’s everything.”
Less than an hour later, they have moved me out of the OR and into a normal hospital room. The doctors put me back together like Humpty Dumpty, and I’m starting to get the feeling back in my lower half. Dylan helped me do a quick sponge off and then put my hair up. I won’t be in any beauty pageants anytime soon, but It’ll do.
Dylan sits on the side of the bed and leans in for a soft kiss. “You were a fucking rockstar.”
“I didn’t do all that much.”
“Baby, they took you apart and put you back together again. You carried our daughter for eight months. And you handled a stressful situation like a champ. All of those things make you a fucking rockstar.”
“I’m glad she’s here, but I wish she would’ve waited a little while to make her appearance. The house isn’t ready. We don’t even have everything that we need.”
He holds my hand. “I don’t want you to worry about any of that. We will figure it out.”
I’m about to argue with him about why we should worry about that, but I completely forget when the nurse comes walking in rolling the bassinet with our daughter in it.
“We doing okay in here?” She asks.
“We’re good,” I tell her. “How is she doing?”
“She’s a little small since she popped out of the oven early, but besides that, she’s perfectly healthy. We’ll keep an eye on her the next couple days, but she’s great.”
