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"The baby's on its way," I said.
"Oh, my God, I'll run and get a stretcher. I'll--" "I don't think that will be necessary," I said,
laughing. "I can walk just fine."
Logan paced back and forth, back and forth, as
we waited for a labor room. The contractions had
begun, but the pain wasn't bad, not bad at all.
Sometime many hours later, with my sweet Logan at
my side, counting my breathing and the minutes
between my now painful contractions, the nurse came
in to tell us that Fanny had given birth to a little boy.
Early in the evening my own baby came into the
world, screaming with two healthy lungs.
"It's a girl!" the doctor said.
A nurse quickly cleaned her and wrapped her up and laid her carefully on my chest. I folded down the blanket. She had my cornflower blue eyes, but dark brown hair, Troy's hair, hair that even curled at the back like his did. I gently counted her toes and fingers, and saw that her tiny fingers were shaped like Troy's, Tatterton fingers, fingers that might one day craft miniature people and houses. Logan didn't seem to notice any of that. He was so thrilled and taken
with our child.
"Would you like to hold her, Logan?" I asked.
"I'm afraid I might break her, she's so small," he said. "Darling, you're the gentlest man I know.
Here's your daughter," I said, lifting her to him. He carefully cradled the baby's head and drew
the bundle to his chest. "Heaven," he said, staring
enchanted into the infant's face, "all my life I thought
you were the most beautiful girl on earth, but now I
know our love has created a child even more
beautiful."
"Logan, I'd like to call her Annie, after my
Granny."
"Annie," Logan whispered to his daughter. She
burst into furious screams.
We both started to laugh. "I guess she knows
her name," Logan said, handing me my beautiful
baby. Soon the nurse came to insist that Logan go
