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I race down the hallway and out to the parking lot, peeling away from the school and speeding towards the house.
“Baby, are you okay?” I yell into the house.
“I’m fine. It’s fine,” she says, waddling around the corner, carrying her hospital bag.
“You shouldn’t be carrying that. Let me have it,” I say, grabbing the bag from her.
“I’m pregnant, not disabled, Knox,” she says.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just in a panic,” I admit, holding the door open for her.
She stops at the door, putting her hand on my cheek. “Calm down. Today’s the day. We finally get to meet our son,” she says, smiling.
Our son.
I can’t believe I’m about to have a son of my own.
“Now, come on, before I start yelling,” she says, walking towards the truck.
I race past her, opening the door and helping her inside.
“Do I need to call anyone?” I ask, pulling out of the driveway.
“I called everyone while I was waiting for you. They probably beat us to the hospital,” she says.
“I’ll never hear the end of it if one of my brother’s beat me to the hospital for my own baby,” I say, making her laugh.
We get to the hospital, find a spot easily, and I get her inside.
Sure enough, my entire family––and Becca––are sitting in the waiting room.
“What took you guys so long?” Kane asks.
“Don’t start,” I warn.
We walk up to the desk to check in. It feels like the hospital is taking their sweet little time getting us checked in. Don’t they realize she’s about to have a baby?
“You’ve got to calm down,” Sophia whispers so only I can hear.
“I’m sorry, this is just irritating,” I say.
“Knox, we’ve been here for five minutes,” she says.
The next few minutes are a blur of nurses and the doctor, getting Sophia situated in bed and checking her cervix.
“It looks like you’re at about a nine. You came in right on time. You’ll be able to start pushing soon,” the doctor says, looking between the two of us.
“See? You can relax, you got us here in time and everything is fine,” Sophia says.
* * *
An hour later,I’m standing next to my wife, watching her hold our son. It feels like my chest might burst with happiness.
“You did amazing, baby,” I say, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.
“Look at him. He looks just like you,” she says, smiling down at our son.
Karson Kingston.
