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I’d never really thought about my wedding day. Not in detail. Dawn, my therapist, who I still see, along with Lexy, my voice therapist, suggested that maybe I didn’t give myself the false hope because I didn’t believe I’d be around to see it. Maybe they were right. No, I’m sure they were.
The day went by so fast I barely remember it, but I do remember one thing—Josh and Tommy waiting for me at the end of the aisle—an aisle made of sand and rose petals. They wore identical outfits, identical smiles, and identical hopes for our future.
It was fitting, right? That we’d spent years apart, searching for the coast… and ended up marrying on one.
* * *
Traveling with five guys plus Tommy was not as fun as it sounded. Swear, by the end of the first trip, I was able to differentiate the smell of each individual’s fart. Dudes are gross. Seriously. But that’s the only real complaint I had about that entire year. I got to see so much of the world, got to experience so many different places and people and food… oh my God, the food! I think, by the time the year was over, even the guys began to appreciate the things they’d been taking for granted. They saw things through my lens, so to speak. And that first year with my husband, my husband, my husband—sorry, I just like saying my husband—brought us even closer. We learned things about ourselves, about each other, about us. Josh was wrong when he said that he loved me once, and that he’d make me love him twice, because during that time together, I fell in love with him over and over.
In all ways.
For always.
I guess maybe that’s why I chose to stop taking the birth control pills as soon as we got home from our last major trip. In my heart, I knew that even though being Josh Warden’s wife felt like a fantasy, and being Tommy’s step mom was a dream, I wanted more. And I knew that if I’d find myself falling because of my wants, they’d be there to pick me up, to help me walk. To help me soar. To help me coast.
Six months after that decision, I waited impatiently at the airport for him to arrive home from a short trip to Denver and drove him straight to the rooftop of Say Something. I didn’t have to tell him, didn’t even have to lift my hands. He already knew. Because he knows me. He sees me.
* * *
I clasp my necklace with my sweaty palm, allowing the five rings—the two Josh had given me, plus my engagement, my wedding, and the plastic ring from Tommy—to dig into my hand. I focus on that pain, and that pain alone, and try to ignore the one between my legs.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” Josh says, kissing my sweaty forehead and trying to remove his hand from my death grip.
“Kick off the stirrups if you need to, Becca,” my midwife, Dianna, says, “and when I tell you to, you’re going to need to push.”
“Kick, push,” Josh murmurs, smiling against my cheek.
The pain triples, and I squeeze Josh’s hand harder. “Okay, push, Becca!” Dianna yells.
Tears fill my eyes, but I do as she says. I kick, and push, and on my third attempt, the pain disappears as if it was never there. Josh breathes out, his lips to mine, “Olive Juice, baby. So much.”
Delirious and confused, I look between my legs at the tiny human we’d created. “Is it okay?” I sign to Josh, trying to catch my breath.
“She…” Dianna—familiar with ASL—says, smiling up at me.
A moment later, the room fills with tiny, innocent cries that have Josh moving toward our daughter. “She’s perfect,” he says. “Baby, she’s so perfect.”
I reach out for them, my tears flowing fast and free, and by the time I have my baby girl in my arms, I’m consumed with relief, with overwhelming elation, and with unconditional love for her and her daddy. I place my finger in her tiny hands and she grasps on to it like it’s been done so many times before.
She’s so tiny, so pure, and so beyond perfection I find it hard to breathe.
“She’s got your nose,” Josh whispers.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” Dianna says. “Tommy’s waiting just outside.”
I didn’t make a birth plan, knowing that it was unlikely we’d actually stick to it. The one and only thing I wanted was for Tommy to be with us as soon as possible. I wanted him to be the first to see her, to hold her, to love her.
I hope he loves her.
I hope he doesn’t feel like he’s going to be replaced by her.
I hope he knows that I love him as my own.
