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As we arrive at the hospital, anticipation and nervous excitement fill the air. The medical staff swiftly takes over, guiding us through the doors and into a delivery room. I’m transferred onto a comfortable bed, surrounded by the gentle murmur of voices and the soft glow of medical equipment.
“Who’s the father?” the nurse asks.
The boys look at each other, not saying anything.
“Oh for god’s sake,” I bite out through the pain.
“All three of us need to be here for her, please,” Ed says. I never thought he would beg, but he does for me.
The nurse nods reluctantly. “Well, if it’s that important to you.”
“I won’t be able to do it without them,” I wail. I’m not leaving any of them behind.
“Get them in,” the doctor says urgently. “The patient’s needs are the priority.”
Ed, Ollie, and Artie remain by my side, their presence a soothing balm to my anxious heart.
Ed’s hand clasps mine tightly, offering unwavering support. Ollie stands on my other side, his eyes filled with love and excitement. Artie hovers close by, ready to lend a helping hand wherever needed.
“Come over here, Artie,” Ollie says.
Artie’s face pales. “I can’t.” He’s nervous and a little scared.
“Please, I need you,” I manage to say between groaning. Artie springs to his feet and clasps his hand in mine. “I’m right here, Susan. You’re going to be just fine.”
I focus on my breathing, trying to stay present and centered amidst the intensifying contractions.
“You’re doing great, Susan.”
“Susan, I need you to push,” my doctor says. The epidural sets in, dulling the pain a little.
“Push. Push,” the doctor encourages.
“You can do it, Susan,” Ed says.
I groan and hold on to his hand in an iron grip, almost crushing it, but Ed doesn’t let go of me.
The boys’ eyes lock with mine, their expressions a blend of excitement and awe. Tears mix with my sweat as I give one last push, and the baby is out.
He comes crying into the world. The doctor wraps him up in a towel and hands him over to me.
As I hold our precious bundle in my arms, tears of awe and gratitude stream down my face. Ed, Ollie, and Artie surround us, their eyes brimming with tears and their faces adorned with smiles that mirror my own.
As we bask in the awe-inspiring presence of our newborn son, the boys and I engage in joyful conversation and tender moments of connection.
“He’s perfect, isn’t he? Our little miracle,” I coo.
Ed traces a finger over his cheek. “Absolutely perfect. Look at his tiny fingers and toes. We created something truly amazing.”
“He’s got your eyes, Susan. And that tuft of hair just like Artie,” Ollie says in awe.
Artie leans in. “I think he’s got a mix of all of us. He’s our little bundle of love.”
“What should we name him?”
“How about Noah? It meanspeacefulandrest. It feels fitting for our little one,” Ed says. When the three of us look at him, he says, “What? I’ve thought about it a lot.”
“Noah sounds perfect. It’s a strong name, just like him,” Artie says, patting his head softly.
I peer down at my baby. “Noah it is then. Welcome to the world, little Noah.”
We continue to shower Noah with love and affection, taking turns holding him and marveling at every tiny detail. The room fills with a gentle chorus of cooing and soft words of endearment.
In this moment, our family feels complete.
The End.
