Page 225 of True Blue

Our little girl slept curled against my side in the hospital bed, having missed me during my longer, more intensive labor with our little bear. The universe has a funny sense of humor. Labor with Ella had been such a breeze that I was completely unprepared for our son to make his sudden, early entrance.

Teddy walked over to perch on my other side, pressing a long kiss to my head. His entire face softened as he looked at sleepy Ella, then our newest addition, then me.

“You’ve given me everything I dreamed of,” he whispered, then winked because he is ridiculous and wonderful. “Thank you for my babies, baby.”

I sighed, pressing a kiss to Ella’s soft curls. “Anytime, Teddy bear.”

“Indie,” Teddy said, suddenly serious, his face still soft and tender. I tilted my head. His voice was choked with emotion as he said, “I love you.”

“I love you,” I whispered, smiling wetly. I squeezed Ella and looked at my sleeping newborn. “And these two. You’re my entire world.”

Teddy beamed.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Dr. Browne?” I ask as I place the frame back on my desk, angling it toward me.

Dr. Browne shakes her head as she stands.

“No, I just…”

“Needed some reassurance,” I finish gently, and she nods, a little reluctant. “Be confident in your abilities. And there’s no shame in asking for help. I’m always available…” I pause, then amend with a wide smile. “Except for the next two weeks. Family time.”

Dr. Browne smiles.

“Thank you, Dr. Ambrose. Enjoy your vacation.”

I sigh happily, tossing my keys and phone into my bag.

“Oh, I plan on it.”

Ella is in the front yard when I pull into the driveway, dressed in shorts and a neon yellow t-shirt from her travel softball team. She’s practicing her pitching on the net contraption her father made her, but she stops when she sees me, a wide grin spreading across her dirt-smudged face.

“Mommy!” she shouts, dropping her glove and barreling toward me.

“Hey, Champ,” I say, opening my arms for her big bear hug, one thing she definitely inherited from her father. I press a kiss to her hair, squeezing her close. “Did you have a good day at camp?”

“Yeah! We played kickball, and I slid into home and scraped up my side, but I scored the winning run!”

I frown as she lifts her leg to show me the bandaged scrape on the side of her knee, toppling slightly when she loses her balance. Smiling at my silly girl, I ruffle her hair.

“Remind me to check that out before you go to bed.”

“Okay! Mom, wait—watch my fastball!”

Ella sprints over to her glove, grabbing a softball. Crossing my arms, I watch as she takes a deep breath, winds up the ball, and sends it perfectly into the net. She turns to me, eyes excited with an expectant look on her face.

Just like always, I’m completely in awe of this little human—half-me, half-Teddy. But all herself. She’s perfectly chaotic and wonderful, and every day, I understand my own parents less. But I think of them less and less, too. Because I have my own family now. A family I chose and made and love more than life itself.

“Olympics, here we come,” I say, clapping for her before gesturing toward the house. “Come on. I smell Daddy’s cooking. Is Little Bear helping?”

Ella snickers. “Little Bear is being grumpy.”

“Uh-oh,” I mutter, opening the front door and humming when the scent of garlic and pasta sauce hits me. Ella and I take off our shoes by the front door, and I place my bag on the hook. “Go wash up, champ.”

“Okay, Mommy,” she says, saluting me before racing up the stairs, feet pounding the entire way.

I watch her until she disappears, before I turn toward the front room—Teddy’s studio.

My husband graduated from art school when Ella was a toddler. I still remember sitting in the bleachers with her on my lap, Stephanie and Danielle on either side of me as we cheered for him. He looked up at us as I held our daughter on my hip, showing her how to clap for her daddy, and I felt so immensely proud of him that I could barely breathe through it.