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“Are you sure this diaper fits?”
My daughter weighs five pounds, six ounces.
“There you go,” Shelby says. Her hand guides my fingers, ensuring it’s snug before I press the white tab down. This time, there’s no gap for her thumb to glide under.
I take out my phone and see my parents, Oliver, and Kate have arrived. They’re parking in the hospital garage, so we still have some time before they show up. Sam, Olivia, and their daughters will fly down tomorrow. Olivia came down for Sunny’s baby shower, and from what I can tell, Olivia, Kate, and Sunny are all becoming close friends.
Harrison grumbled about losing his wingman, but he stepped up to the plate and teamed up with Ollie and Sam to throw me an unforgettable bachelor party. He’s not thrilled I left Houston, but things are changing for him. I haven’t had much time to talk to him about it, but from what I gather, he might be moving out-of-state for a woman. Maybe. He plans to visit us in Austin after things calm down, his words. I don’t expect things to slow down with a little one in the mix, but I do expect him to visit.
My phone vibrates again, and I tap out a quick response to Noah. Shortly after our engagement, Sunny started playing for Noah occasionally at Sweet Magnolia. She got to know a lot of the staff, and he’s got a big group that wants to say hello. I respond, telling him that she’s doing well, but to bring the crew by once we’re home. I’m not sure when Sunny will resume her acoustic nights on stage, but one day, she will. Kara will do her best to make it happen, since she’s one of her biggest fans.
“You going to finish with this baby, Dr. Duke?”
Chastised, I drop the phone into my slacks. My daughter lies on the changing table in front of me. “Sorry.”
Shelby pointedly stares me down and says, “It’s okay. Now swaddle her. It’s cold in here.”
I curse myself for having been too busy to attend the parenting classes with Sunny. But, in my defense, between expanding our practice, starting my spinal fellowship, and locating and buying a home in Austin, I’ve been busy.
But as I struggle to fold the cloth around my little girl, I realize I might have mis-prioritized a few things.
Shelby pats my forearm. “You’re getting the hang of it. You’re going to be a good dad.” Her words make my eyes burn. “Now, are you doing okay, Mrs. Duke? Do you need anything?”
Sunny smiles and lolls her head back and forth.
“You probably need sleep,” I tell her. She just smiles the smile that lights my world. And a wave of gratitude and relief she’s still here with me washes through me. I love this little bundle in my arms more than I ever thought possible, but god, if I’d had to do it all on my own, without Sunny with me, I’d lose it.
Through the years growing up, people said all kinds of things about Sunny’s dad. But I’ve never had more respect for him than I do in this moment. He struggled over the years, sure, and I believe some of the rumors about his drinking were true. But he kept it together enough to raise a phenomenal daughter, without the wife he loved by his side. Tears threaten, and I grit my teeth and sway the baby in my arms, letting the action soothe those grim thoughts.
True to my word, I did tell Sunny about her mom. But her reaction wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be. She said that all those pitying looks she’d assumed were for her dad drinking made a lot more sense. She was sad for a few days, and she let herself feel that emotion. But it was something that happened over forty years earlier. And she had books that talked about postpartum depression, and she understood enough about it to know her father hadn’t lied when he said her mother died from pregnancy complications.
Shelby pulls the hospital room door closed behind her, and I sit down on the chair beside the bed. Sunny pats the bed and shifts her legs, creating room for me. For us. The mattress sinks under my weight, and I cradle our baby in my arms, holding her so she can see her mother.
“Did you decide on a name?”
“I think Penelope Anne, after your mom.”
My mother’s name is Patricia. We want to honor my mother, but we also wanted a more modern name, and so we picked Penelope as a similar name starting with P in her honor.
“She’s going to love it.” It just so happens that Anne is both Sandra’s mom’s middle name and my mother’s middle name. I blink back emotion as a wealth of love overflows. Between my daughter and my wife, I have everything I could ever ask for in life.
Unfortunately, my daughter isn’t yet awash with the same level of gratitude and love. A squawk-like sound startles me and evolves into a wail. “I think someone’s hungry.”
She’s already eaten once, but they have advised us to let her eat as often as she wants on her first day. She’s brand new.
Sunny sits up, and I help situate the pillows behind her back. She takes our baby from me and adjusts her top. The top has buttons that allow her to open it so she can breastfeed.
“I’m so glad she took to breastfeeding,” Sunny says.
I watch, mesmerized as my daughter clasps her mother’s nipple.
“I heard all those horror stories.”
That’s something else Sunny endured without me. She met with all these other pregnant women and read all the books.
I reach out and caress my wife’s cheek and with care lean over her to press my lips to her forehead. “Don’t you ever leave me.” I’m not sure where that comes from, but my voice is gravelly, and there’s a rawness to my chest that would make you think I was the one under the scalpel mere hours ago.
She glances up at me, and her face immediately contorts. “What’s wrong?”
I inch closer to her and glance at the closed wooden door. We don’t have long before the outside world comes through.
“Being a doctor’s wife isn’t going to be easy.” Guilt descends for all the times in the future I won’t be there. I can’t easily walk out of a surgery. Doctors’ marriages dissolve all the time. “I’m going to do my best,” I promise.
“Where is this coming from?” She reaches for me and touches my arm.
“I just…” I can’t tell her what it was like. And yet all this emotion is still there. The fear. Realizing what I might’ve lost. “It’s always been you, Sunny. You just… if I’m screwing up, tell me. I want to be everything for you.”
She smiles down at our daughter as she adjusts Penelope, and with a world of love flowing through those sky-blue irises, she reassures me. “You can’t be everything. But you are enough. You love to say it was always me. But, Ian, it wasn’t always me, and it wasn’t always you. When the timing was right, we became us.” She gazes upon our baby, lost in reverie, until she remembers I’m here and our fingers intertwine. She’s mine, always.
