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The doctor interrupts our sweet moment to ask if Raniero wants to cut the cord. He leaves me only for a second, but I watch him with fascinated eyes as he transforms before me.
Raniero stands in front of our son openly weeping. He whispers a few Italian prayers over Gabriel before cutting the cord and freeing him.
The man that less than a year ago forced me to walk around on a leash and crawl on my hands and knees like a dog has a soul after all.
“I love you, Raniero,” I close my eyes and let the exhaustion wash over me like a wave.
I barely feel his hand enclose mine. I’m falling asleep when he’s saying, “I love you, too, Calliope Valenti.”
I don’t snooze forever, just for a few minutes before my after-birth needs to be passed. But by the time I open my eyes, Gabriel has been cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket.
“Skin-to-skin time, mama,” the doctor coos as she hands my son to me for the first time. She starts to remove the blanket, allowing his tiny, precious little body to be pressed against me. “He’s beautiful. You did an amazing job.”
Gabriel has all the best qualities of his father and me. He has Raniero’s bone structure and my green eyes. His cheeks are full and pink and he stares at me as if I’m the eighth wonder of the world. He looks at me just like his father does.
“Thank you,” Raniero whispers as he comes closer and gets as close to us as the bed will allow. “This is truly the happiest moment of my life.”
And he’s right. My body feels dead and I think I could sleep for three days if I wanted to. But holding my son with my husband staring at the both of us lovingly is better than sleep. It’s better than everything. It’s perfect.
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