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The anxiety that has filled my chest all day knowing that he or she is coming early seems to ease a little at that cry, and the nurse’s next words leave me with this feeling of pride and love and wonder that fills me to my very soul.
“It’s a boy.”
The nurse hands me scissors to cut the umbilical cord, and I watch as they take the baby for just a moment to examine him and clean him up.
His lungs are definitely working based on the little cries he’s producing as he’s introduced to this strange and wonderful world.
“He looks healthy,” the nurse says as she sets the baby on Desiree’s chest, and I’m looking at her as she looks down at our son.Our son. Tears stream down her face, and emotion clogs the back of my throat as I look at the two people I love most in the entire universe.
I don’t even know his name yet, and I love him more than I ever knew I could love another person.
“Do we have a name yet, Mom and Dad?” one of the nurses asks in the periphery, and hearing someone call meDadfor the first time is a bit of a shock.
We haven’t discussedboynames. She seemed so sure it was a girl that we only tossed around girl names. She liked Miley, and I liked Cassie. But boy names?
I have no idea.
She glances up at me, and I see the light in her eyes. “Jacob?” she asks softly.
My chest aches at the tribute to my best friend. I think about how much more Jake was than his final moments, about how hewas adventurous and fun, always up to meet a new challenge, always laughing, always smiling.
That’s what I want for my boy.
I can see this kid being my little best friend as we go on adventures together. We’ll go to parks, and he’ll ride on my shoulders as we hike up mountains, and we’ll travel and see the world as a family.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She nods.
“What about William for the middle name?” I ask.
“After my dad?” she asks, brushing a tear away.
I nod.
“Jacob William Nash,” she repeats, looking down at our boy.
He has a light dusting of dark hair on his head, and I think he’ll look a lot like me. Maybe someday down the line, we’ll have a little girl who will have gorgeous red hair like her mother, and I’ll keep her inside until she’s thirty-five because if she’s anything at all like her mother, I’m in big, big trouble.
“It’s perfect,” we say at the same time.
We spend the first hour of Jake’s life as a quiet family of three. He lays on her chest, and the two of us gaze at him in wonder as he starts to calm. He falls asleep, and I press my lips to his forehead.
I can’t believe he’s mine.
I can’t believesheis mine.
The nurse takes the baby and shows me how to swaddle him—which I immediately forget—and hands him to me. I stare down at him before I hand him to his mom, and I can’t believe we’re parents now.
These are the two people I will prioritize and love and adore and sacrifice everything for…for the rest of my life.
“Marry me,” I whisper softly, brushing my lips across her temple.
Her eyes lift from the baby up to mine. Her brows are a little furrowed, and her eyes are rimmed in red and watery as the tears continue to fall.
She’s never looked more beautiful. She nods as her eyes connect with mine. “Yes.”
I lean down, and my lips collide with hers just as they’ll do thousands of times to come. She’ll hold our son and maybe another one or a daughter down the road if we’re so lucky, and we’ll kiss and remember this moment right now. I feel like I’m at the peak of love, on the precipice of emotions, and yet I also know there’s so much more to come, that I’ll fall more in love with her every single day just as I have since the night we met despite the trials and tribulations we’ve faced.
