Paul
I have a son. I dry my eyes with my shirt and walk out into the waiting room. They all sit forward. When did our numbers grow this big? Even Henry is here. Hayley runs to me and jumps into my arms. “It’s a boy!” I tell them all. “Eight pounds, nine ounces, twenty-four-inches long, and he’s here!”
Hayley squeals, and everyone claps. I give Hayley to Emily and go back to be with Friday because there’s nowhere else I want to be. After they’re all cleaned up, the nurses let Hayley and Jacob in for a few private moments. Then they let the family in, and they hand the baby around to everyone. Friday is tired, but her labor was pretty quick. She hasn’t been sleeping well, though, so she’s probably exhausted.
People start to file out as soon as they’ve had a turn with the baby. Matt and Sky take Hayley home with them, and when the room is finally empty, I sit down with Friday and put my arm around her in the bed. We’re alone, but we’re not. I’m surprised she’s not an emotional wreck; she’s pretty calm and cool. She’s done this twice but never with a baby she would be taking home. “I want to learn to breastfeed,” she says quietly. “I can do that, right?”
“You can do anything you want to do.”
She nods. “We did a good job.” A tear slides down her cheek, and she doesn’t brush it back. Friday still busts my balls, but she’s also more open and honest about her feelings than she was for a long time. Or at least she is with me.
The lactation consultant comes in and teaches her how to feed the baby. I’ve never seen anything sweeter than the sight of her with my baby at her breast. She flinches and says it’s harder than Sky and Emily made it look.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” I tell her.
“You promise?” she asks. She smiles at me.
“Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
She shakes her head. “Never.”
She promised me she would love me forever when we got married. She promised me we could weather any storm that comes that our way, and we have. She can’t promise me perfect, but she promised me her, and that’s all I need.
She closes her eyes while our baby suckles at her breast. I notice that her breast is plumped around his nose, so I reach over and dimple it with my finger, making some breathing room. She opens her eyes. “You’re still taking care of me.”
“You let me live in your fortress, Friday. I’ll protect it until the day I die. I promise.” I kiss her softly and watch our baby as she feeds him for the first time. I take a mental picture of it—Click! Click!—but I won’t share it with anyone. This picture is only for me.