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I chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“The boys are out front,” Starla announces as she opens the door and strides across the room, damp cloth in hand.
“The hell are they doing here?” I ask, confused.
“Dally told them Winter went into labor. I guess they want to be here to hear the good news.” She sits beside Winter and starts to gently wipe the sweat from her brow.
Winter visibly relaxes at the cool touch. I’m beyond grateful for Starla and her incredible ability to know just the right thing to do.
The doctor finally arrives for her second checkup, and she’s somewhat surprised as she announces Winter’s already dilated to six centimeters. “From here, things should move a little more quickly. Your contractions are going to get more frequent and more intense. Now is when I think you should consider an epidural if that’s something you’re interested in. You’re looking perfectly healthy, so if you wish, we can also do this as a purely natural birth.”
“Give me the drugs, please, Doctor,” Winter says, her tone brooking no argument. Not that I would disagree with her. If my girl is at her pain limit, then she must be in a lot of it.
Things go more smoothly once the epidural is in place. While Winter is no longer able to get up and walk around, she’s clearly in far less pain, and the hours start to move by more comfortably as we wait for her cervix to dilate.
At one point, Winter’s even able to take a brief nap, and I’m fascinated by the entire birthing process. Her body is a machine, preparing to push a living being from inside of her within hours, and yet she’s so tired that she can sleep. But as soon as her next contraction hits, she’s awake.
It’s well after midnight by the time Dr. Denning decides it’s time to push. I hunker down next to Winter, supporting her as she leans forward into the position that best suits her delivery. Starla remains by her side the entire time as well, offering words of encouragement as Winter pushes, again and again, trying to help our little girl along in her entrance into this world.
And then, I hear the sweet sound of our little girl’s wails. She looks so tiny as Dr. Denning lifts her from between Winter’s legs.
“Would you like to cut the cord?” she asks, looking directly at me.
My mouth goes dry, and I swallow hard. I glance at Winter, who smiles tiredly, then I turn back to the doctor and nod. She walks me through it, and I’m terrified I might mess it up somehow, but I get it done.
And then our little girl is handed off to a nurse so she can be cleaned up and swaddled in a warm blanket. As the nurse performs a few tests to ensure our bawling little girl is healthy, Winter has to push more until she delivers the afterbirth. And then the doctor can stitch her up.
Finally, both of my perfect, beautiful girls are all taken care of, and the nurse hands Winter our little girl for the first time. I feel as though my heart might burst at the sight of our baby in her arms. Tears streak Winter’s tired yet beautiful face. The smile that spreads across her lips as she looks down at our little girl tells me that what we thought of as love until now is nothing in comparison to what we feel for this little girl that just came into our lives.
I couldn’t agree more as I hover close, gently stroking the silken crown of our baby girl.
“Congratulations, you two,” Dr. Denning says from the foot of the bed.
“Thank you, Doctor,” I rasp, meaning it with all sincerity because she has just helped deliver the most special human being into our world.
The doctor leaves, and Starla rises as well. “Congratulations!” she says in a whispered shout. She kisses Winter’s forehead, gives our little girl’s cheek a soft stroke, and smiles at me. “I’ll leave you two alone for a minute.”
“Thank you, Starla,” Winter says, her eyes brimming with more tears as she looks into Starla’s face.
“For you, anything.” She flashes a warm grin and heads out the door, leaving me alone with Winter and our baby girl.
“We still haven’t decided on a name for her,” I murmur as I look down on her in wonder.
“Actually, something you said this morning gave me an idea,” Winter says, looking up at me through her thick lashes.
“Oh?”
“You mentioned how a guardian angel must have brought me to you, and it got me thinking about your mom. If anyone is actually watching you and guiding you from heaven, it has to be her, right? What if we call our little girl Brigitte, after your mom?”
My heart swells at the thought, and tears sting my eyes. I sniff them back as I beam down at Winter. “I think that’s a beautiful name. I love it.” My eyes shift to our little bundle of joy sleeping peacefully in Winter’s arms. “Little Brigitte Martinez.”
After Winter’s held her for a long time, I take her in my arms. She’s so tiny and fragile, I feel as though I might break her. I can hardly believe how much I love this little baby. I would do anything for her; climb mountains, steal the moon. Anything she asked for, I would deliver it.
A knock interrupts us as I gently rock Brigitte in my arms, and then the room slowly fills with Rico, Dally, Knuckles, and Starla.
“Sorry,” she mutters. “I couldn’t hold them off any longer.”
I chuckle as my boys surround me, cooing like birds and whispering in an entirely uncharacteristic display of tenderness.
