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A nurse comes and leads us to the private suite that we made sure would be reserved for Marcy. As the nurse opens the door, Marcy howls, and that has Dom gripping my hand nervously. “She’s fine,” I whisper.
“Andi, Dom!” Sarah hurries over and embraces us in a group hug. “Third pregnancy is going quickly. She’s already eight centimeters.” I envy the easy labor, wishing that had been me. I push the feelings away, knowing that I’m also grateful we’re having a smooth birth. Something my body never wanted to give me.
“Already? It’s only been twenty minutes.” Dom wipes sweat from his forehead.
“It’s time to push!” Marcy yells.
“It’s not time!” A nurse calls. “Wait for the doctor.”
Marcy glances at me. “Andi! I’m pushing, you better fucking catch this baby.”
Holy shit.
I drop my bags and rush to the bed, where Marcy is on all fours, howling. She’s covered with a hospital gown, her back arched.
“She’s not lying. Call for the doctor.”
Three contractions later, and there is still no doctor in sight, and I’m guiding my baby out of its surrogate mother. This certainly was not the plan, but here we are. Marcy collapses in the bed as a nurse passes me a towel to wipe off the baby.
“Dad, you cut the cord,” the nurse says. “Mom, what have we got?”
I glance at Dom. Both of us have water-filled eyes. “It’s a boy.” I rasp, and Dom’s mouth connects with my shoulder.
“Congrats Black family,” Sarah says.
The nurse helps me bundle our son into my arms, and I approach Marcy and lean over the bed. I hug her as she peeks at the baby. “Thank you, Marcy.”
This family, our family, is finally whole. Chaos mixed with beauty. I’ll never forget the kindness Marcy and Sarah have shown us. We will always be indebted to them.
“What’s his name?” Sarah asks, holding her wife’s hand.
Dom glances back to Sarah. “Vincent. After Andi’s dad.”
Once the doctor arrives, Dom and I shuffle to the corner where a pediatrician comes in and checks over our son. Seven pounds, eight ounces, and twenty-one inches of pure perfection.
Dom feeds him his first bottle, sitting in the rocking chair, a pillow placed in his lap for support, and I sob over and over again at the sight of my husband holding our newest child.
It’s taken us so long to get to this place. Too much heartache, but here we are. All that’s missing at this moment is Charlotte.
Dom glances up at me, noticing the look on my face. “What is it?”
“I can’t wait to see you raise him.” I lean down and kiss him. I’ll never take him or this family for granted. We’ve worked too hard to get where we are.
