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“Sorry, just startled at the sound,” I say.
I squeeze her hand gently, trying not to wince at my protesting fingers; Amanda squeezed them really hard. I’ll probably have a few bruises on my hand tomorrow.
But it doesn’t matter. It was completely worth it for this moment.
The doctor is returning, a blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms. The hospital still smells like antiseptic, my girlfriend looks like she went through a war, and there are several people anxiously waiting for word of what’s happening, but none of that matters right now as
the doctor gently lowers the bundle into Amanda’s waiting arms.
“Congratulations on your new baby girl,” the doctor says softly.
I fall into the chair closest to the bed, scooting forward as much as I’m able. I’m in awe as I gaze at the tiny life that’s now sitting in Amanda’s arms.
“A girl,” I breathe. I pause. “Did we even come up with girl names?”
“Uh…a few,” Amanda says sheepishly. “I was so sure it was going to be a boy, though.”
Amanda was so certain that she had me convinced. Thankfully, we held off buying anything for the new baby before it arrived.
“She’s beautiful,” I say.
Amanda runs her finger gently down the baby’s face. The baby twitches, fussing slightly.
“She’s probably hungry,” the nurse says, stepping forward with a smile.
I watch as the nurse helps Amanda breastfeed. It looks awkward and Amanda has to adjust her arms a few times before she finds a comfortable position to hold them in. The baby girl doesn’t seem to know what to do at first, but then she begins drinking.
“Wow,” Amanda says softly. “I can’t believe she’s really here. These last few months seemed to go so quickly.”
I nod in agreement. Once Amanda hit the third trimester, everything just seemed to speed along. But I knew it, I was taking Amanda to the hospital last night when her contractions started. It’s been a long eight hours, but now, in the early hours of the morning, our baby is here.
“What do we name her?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” Amanda says. “I think Donna and Violet were on our list…but those don’t feel right.”
“I agree,” I say. “Did we have any other girl’s names?”
We look down at the baby, who is now suckling contentedly. She really is beautiful. So perfect and tiny.
“Rose,” Amanda says suddenly.
“What?” I ask.
“Let’s call her Rose,” Amanda says with a laugh. “I liked Violet, but Rose is much prettier.”
“Rose,” I say, trying the name out. I smile. “It sounds good.”
“You have a name?” the doctor asks, overhearing us.
“Yes,” Amanda says with a soft smile. “Rose Jessica Thompson.”
I look sharply at Amanda. We haven’t spoken about middle names or last names. But it appears Amanda was thinking about it anyway. She said the name surely, as though she had decided this a long time ago.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Amanda adds, glancing at me. “But I know how much you loved your mother. I wanted to honor her in some way.”
I press a kiss to her forehead, sweeping hair off her face.
“It’s perfect,” I say, my voice rough. I clear my throat. “But, Thompson? You don’t want her to have your last name?”
