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“When can I see her?”
Austin’s mouth curves upward, and his reassuring smile is enough for me to relax for just a moment.
“Right now, if you’re up for it. She’s due for a feed.”
“Feed?” I ask, unsure what I’m supposed to do. “As in breastfeed?”
“There’s a lactation nurse on hand. She can help teach you how to position the baby to latch on.”
In the corner of the room sits a wheelchair. Will brings it over, and Austin and Dad help me transfer from the bed to the wheelchair. My legs are like jelly, unable to stand on their own. A simple task like moving is so much harder than I think.
Austin wheels me down the corridor to the NICU as my family follows. We reach the door, which instructs us to stop and protect ourselves before entering. Mom helps me with a gown, sanitizes my hands, and fits me with a mask.
“One person can come in with you,” Austin informs me.
I turn to look at my parents. Dad nods with a smile. “Take your mother in. She can help you with the baby.”
“Are you sure?” Mom asks, knowing how tight my bond is with Dad.
“Of course, Charlotte.”
Mom follows the protocol as well, dressing in a gown and sanitizing her hands. Then, when her mask is on, Austin wheels me to the incubator in the middle of the room as she follows.
With each step he takes, our baby comes to full view.
I stare in awe at this tiny baby lying inside the heated incubator. Inside my head, I count the fingers and toes—ten and ten—just perfect.
It’s hard to believe that she was inside of me only a few short hours ago, and now she’s here living and breathing.
Austin places his hand on the incubator. “You ready to hold her?”
Nodding, I then watch as Austin carefully removes her. He does so with such delicacy, and when she’s in his arms, I take a moment to admire our little girl being held by her daddy.
My arms shift into position while Austin slowly places her in my arms. The second she’s in my embrace, my heart gushes with a warm sensation and this burst of overwhelming love I’ve never experienced in my life.
“She’s so little,” I whisper, touching her fingers.
Austin crouches down, so he’s at my level. We both stare into her face, mesmerized by this tiny human who is ours. Never in my wildest dreams could I ever imagine what it would feel like to hold my baby for the first time. I want to capture this moment for the rest of my life, catalog it in my memories. And to think, my mother did this four times.
“Congratulations to you both,” Mom says with a proud smile. “Have you thought about a name?”
I have my own ideas, but nothing stands out when I look at her. Nothing is worthy of this beautiful little girl in my arms.
“I have a name,” Austin murmurs. “It’s not conventional.”
“What is it?” I breathe in anticipation.
“Emerald,” Austin begins with a wistful stare. “It was actually my great-grandmother's name. Though people actually called her Emmy for short.”
My eyes fall upon our daughter's face.
Emerald—I can’t think of a more perfect name.
“It’s beautiful, Austin.”
“Plus, you know she’ll have emerald eyes, right?”
A grin spreads across my face. “How do you know? She hasn’t opened her eyes yet?”
