She was perfect.
Ten little fingers.
Ten little toes.
A tiny, precious face that made everything else disappear for one suspended moment.
I stared at her in awe, drinking her in as tears blurred my vision.
Cole became emotional too.
He kissed my forehead and gazed at Emma with tenderness in his eyes.
“Smile, guys,” the nurse said, holding a Polaroid camera.
She took a picture of the three of us.
Another nurse carried Emma away to clean her up while the doctor continued with the delivery of the placenta.
Cole stayed beside me and helped me push again as the doctor delivered the placenta.
I was grateful to him in a way I would never forget.
“Thank you,” I said, looking at him while still holding his hand. I closed my eyes, and tears rolled down my cheeks again. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to do this without you.”
He stroked my forehead and squeezed my hand.
“I think you would’ve been just fine, even without me. You are the strongest and bravest woman I know... after my mom and my wife.” He smiled.
Smiling back, I said, “You’re right about that.”
After I was cleaned up, I was wheeled into a private room to rest, with Cole walking beside me. A cot was placed next to my bed with Emma inside. Seeing her there made everything feel real in a new and overwhelming way.
Then the nurse said, “Let’s start the breastfeeding process. It will help with your bleeding and pain.”
Cole excused himself and said he would be back with Jack and the others who were waiting outside.
I knew he probably felt awkward, and I could not blame him.
“You’re a lucky lady,” the nurse said after helping me feed my daughter. “Not many husbands are supportive and present as yours is.”
I was about to correct her when Jack and Maureen entered with Geeta and Lucas.
“Wow, this is her, Mama?” Lucas squealed. “She is so tiny. Was I like this too?”
“Yes, sweetheart. You were like this too.”
Cole came in a few minutes later with flowers and balloons for me. Then he captured many pictures of those first precious moments on his phone.
The baby shower gifts I had received the previous week came in handy. Jack and Maureen had thrown me a lovely shower, and now all those tiny clothes and blankets and little necessities no longer felt like abstract preparations.
They belonged to Emma.
They belonged to my daughter.
After everyone had left, I was finally alone with Emma.
The feeling of being a mother again was inexplicable, especially because this baby had been born out of me. I looked at my daughter and felt a love so fierce and immediate that it nearly frightened me. And yet, even in that sacred, exhausted, emotional quiet, my mind drifted to my parents.
