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“Can you feel anything down there?” I asked.
“No, thank fuck,” she said. “It’s more like…I can feel the pressure of him taking that scalpel to me right now, but there’s no pain. The only pain is in my head and my neck and shoulders.”
“I’ll give you a nice long massage once the baby is here,” I promised, raising her hand to my mouth and pressing a kiss to the back. “I love you.”
She gave me an exhausted smile. “I love you too.”
“Alright,” the doctor said, passing the scalpel off and refocusing his attention between Amara’s legs. “When I tell you to, bear down and push, okay?”
Amara only nodded, and I helped her sit up a bit to make it easier on her. A nurse stood at each side of the doctor, holding Amara’s feet, giving her something steadier—and less impersonal—than the stirrups to throw her weight against.
The doctor studied the readout from the monitor attached to Amara’s belly, and when it approached her next contraction, he said, “Now!”
Amara’s face screwed up as she gave her next push everything she had, and a loud groan tore free from her throat.
“The head’s out!” the doctor said. “One more, Amara. One more and you can meet your baby.”
Our baby.
Finally.
Amara bore down again, and I watched as our baby slid free, directly into the doctor’s waiting hands. One of the nurses handed him some surgical scissors, which he held out to me.
“Wanna cut the umbilical, Dad?”
I blinked slowly, coming back to myself quickly as our baby let out a healthy cry, and I sprang into action. The moment the cord was severed, the nurses ushered the baby away for measurements and clean up, and I turned to Amara. Tears ran down her cheeks, and I surprised myself when I choked up right alongside her.
In a flash, a nurse was bringing the baby back.
“Congratulations,” she said. “You have a beautiful baby girl.”
The nurse set the impossibly small bundle on Amara’s chest, and I leaned over them both, brushing a corner of the blanket out of her face so I could take a good look at my daughter for the first time.
My daughter.
I had a daughter.
This impossibly strong woman and these teeny, tiny baby were mine.
My girls.
My whole world.
“Fuck,” I said quietly as tears poured down my cheeks. “She’s perfect.”
“She’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen,” Amara agreed.
“There’s no rush on any of this,” one of the nurses said, approaching Amara’s bed from the other side, “but we will need to get the birth certificate filled out. Do you guys have a name picked out?”
Despite my happy tears, I couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped me. In true Amara and Calvin fashion, we’d argued endlessly about names for the last several months. Anything I liked, she hated, and anything she loved, I wasn’t a fan of.
Finally, last week, she’d been reading a book, looked up, and spoke a name.
I’d agreed instantly, and looking at her now, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect fit for my baby girl.
I didn’t know what we would’ve done if we had a boy.
“Cora,” Amara said quietly. “Cora Mae Ryder.”
