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Dane
Special Delivery
The room is chaos. My stomach is in knots. Something’s wrong, and now my Ronnie is prepped for an emergency c-section. I sit anxiously beside her as she looks at me with heavy eyes. The epidural is doing its job, so the doctors can do theirs without causing her pain. I’ve learned from the parent’s books it’s a common and safe surgery. It’s just really hard on the mother, and healing will take longer than a traditional birth.
Cries fill the room, and I make the mistake of looking behind the blue curtain to see the most horrific sight imaginable. The insides of my love are open and exposed. I feel the blood drain from me, and I fear I’m going to faint or throw up.
“Hang in there, dad. Your son needs you.”
My son. The kind words from the nurse filter through my fears, and I swallow hard, trying to get my bearings.
“A boy.” I quickly turn to Ronnie and kiss her forehead. “Our son is here.”
The nurse directs me to cut the cord, and as soon as it’s cut, machines start to go off. The nurse pushes me back and directs me to follow my son to the nearby bed. Dr. Lovejoy puts her hands back inside Ronnie, and to my astonishment, another baby is born.
“A girl.”
I hear her gasp and run to Ronnies side while a nurse cleans my son. My daughter screams, and her mom and dad laugh as we kiss. Blessed feels like such a small word compared to the immense feelings this moment gives me. My family was once just my sister Sophie. Now I have Ronnie and two perfect children.
I cut my daughter’s cord and check on my son. My woman, strong and sleepy from the pain killers, is stitched back together, cleaned, and bandaged up. When we’re all finally reunited in the room, my nerves settle, and a comforting sense of calm falls over me.
“I love you.”
“You know I love you. I might not have puke on me, but I still love you that much.”
“Change dirty poop diapers?”
“Yours or the babies?”
That makes her laugh, and the sound eases any remaining tension I was still feeling from seeing her lying open on the bed today when she had our children.
“Both,” she says confidently, filling me with pride. My baby knows to ask for what she wants and will always get it.
“Absolutely. Whatever you need,” I say, placing a kiss on her forehead.
Our son Maxwell and our daughter Daphne sleep in their own hospital cribs beside us.
I stroke Ronnie’s hair, admiring her strength and beauty, even with her eyes heavy.
“I’m so glad they both took to latching like their dad,” she mutters. The words take a moment to register, but I can’t help laughing when they do. I cover my entertainment in the crock of my arm and laugh hard.
The End
