I’m thrown into confusion, my mind racing as I try to recall our labor checklist. “Okay, where is my labor list again?” I mutter, frantically digging my phone out of my pocket. “Let me grab the bags, start the car to warm it, and get you inside. Well, not necessarily in that order—I’ll start the car first!” I blurt out, my voice betraying my escalating panic. My hands shake as I fumble with the keys.
“Relax,” Pearl replies calmly, her feet still planted on the ground. “Everyone at church told me first labors can be pretty long, so the baby probably won’t be here for a while. Let me freshen up, change clothes, and then we can head to the hospital.”
“Okay, freshening up sounds good. Do you need any help?” I ask, trying to embody the calm I had hoped to maintain on this day.
“No, you can warm up the car and text Dad, Aunt Mel, and the girls. I’ll be quick.”
“Buddy, I got something for you,” I say softly, cradling the smallest human I’ve ever seen in my arms and bringing him to my lap. I turn his sleeping face to the first gift I want him to have—the tiniest pair of skates. “You’re going to love hockey.”
I glance over at Pearl, who looks beyond exhausted, a little lifeless even, but at the same time, her eyes sparkle with joy like never before. It’s been seven hours since her water broke, and after what felt like an Olympic marathon, Micah is finally here. I thought I knew thrill from hockey, but today surpasses anything I’ve ever experienced.
Suddenly, the room bursts open. Aunt Melissa, Dad, Robyn, and Charlie all enter, having waited outside anxiously. They gush over Micah and comment on how he’s a mini-me. The split second we saw the color of his eyes immediately after birth revealed they aren’t forest green like Pearl’s—they are light blue.
“Can we now know his name?” Robyn asks eagerly, taking the baby from Aunt Melissa. Pearl insisted on keeping the name between us until someone guessed it, and no one ever did.
“This is Micah Xavier Ortiz,” Pearl announces proudly.
“You named him after me?” Dad beams.
I chose his middle name.
“Yes, I want him to feel connected to his grandpa.” I pat his shoulder.
Dad has truly changed. Even after forgiving him, I still had doubts about his ability to stay on the right path. However, during the two years he’s been out of jail, he showed a remarkable transformation. He has truly surrendered his life to Jesus Christ and his change gradually patched the wounds in my heart, one by one.
“Sweet P, how does it feel to have your own flesh and blood?” I ask, turning to my sweet wife. Her eyes are fixed on Micah, as if she’s still processing the transition from having him all to herself in her womb to now sharing him with all of us.
“I feel like God’s favorite right now. I married a handsome, godly man, and now I have a baby that looks exactly like him. I’ve never been happier,” she replies, her voice tired yet accompanied by a serene smile.
Her words compel me to fall to my knees in humble gratitude to God.
Thank you Jesus they both made it.
The End
