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“She’s fine. Her brother woke her up, that’s all. She needed a little help to drift back off.”
She.
Tears well in my eyes as I glance at the clear plastic crib on wheels that’s a little further down beside the bed. Our son is fast asleep inside it with a clean white romper on. They both have the same head of dark hair. He’s the larger of the two, older by four minutes. His sister was keen to join us once he came out. Drew held him in one arm while I delivered her. And kept his other arm around me the entire time.
Being my rock.
A tiny part of me was still worried about how he’d react when he saw them both. Even though he’s assured me at every turn that these are our babies and blood doesn’t matter to him, a tiny part of me was still terrified. Terrified that it was too good to be true, and he’d see her differently because of her DNA.
He kisses her head again and then reaches over to hold my hand with his spare one. The look in his eyes as they meet mine can only be described as joy. Pure joy.
He didn’t cry when our son was born. But he couldn’t hold it in the second she appeared. Maybe it’s because she looked smaller than her brother. Or that she didn’t cry right away and there were a tense few seconds where Doctor Melinda had to use a sucker device to clear her airway. But whatever it was, the second he laid eyes on her and she was placed in his arms, Drew wept.
And he’s kept tearing up at random moments throughout the night while we’ve been in the private recovery room.
“I think she likes this.” He gazes down at her with a soft smile and kisses her head again. “The skin-to-skin contact, I mean. I read it helps with bonding.”
Emotion bubbles up inside my throat as he kisses her again and she takes a contented breath, her back rising and falling. She looks so small in his arms. I don’t think there’s any danger that the two of them aren’t already infatuated with one another. It’s obvious seeing them together like this.
“She looks so happy there.” I rest my head against the pillow and watch the two of them.
“She’s perfect. They’re both so perfect.” He glances up at me, his blue eyes glistening as his voice wavers. “Look what you did, Mama. You’re amazing.”
I reach out and squeeze his hand, giving him an exhausted smile. “No. Look whatwedid.”
His teeth sink into his lower lip as he blinks fast, his eyes shining. “What we did,” he echoes, before looking down at our daughter sleeping happily, her cheek resting over his heart.
Her brother stirs in the crib, letting out an indignant cry at not being fed for forty minutes.
“He’s working on getting your milk to come in,” Drew says.
I laugh. “Wow, someone’s definitely been reading their baby books.”
He gives me a lop-sided smile, tiredness tinging his eyes beneath his ruffled, unbrushed hair. Yet somehow, he’s never looked handsomer.
“I’ll get him.”
He stands, keeping our daughter nestled against his bare chest with one hand as he steps toward the crib. He places her down carefully, supporting her head and covering her with a breathable blanket. Then he picks up her brother.
“You’re the noisy one, huh?” He chuckles and presses a kiss to the baby’s forehead, carrying his angry, wailing little body over to me and laying him in my arms.
His eyes are glued to my breast as I take it out of my nursing bra and help the baby latch on.
“What?” I side-eye him.
“It’s just amazing.” He exhales, running a hand around the back of his neck. “I can’t believe they’re both here.”
“Yeah.” I smile down at the quiet little face happily latched onto my breast, a breast that looks ridiculously giant next to his tiny head.
“I couldn’t love the three of you more if I tried.”
I look up into Drew’s glittering eyes as he leans over his legs and rests his chin on top of his clasped hands.
“I know,” I breathe. “I feel the same.”
He looks from our son to my face and back again.
“Marry me.”
