“Okay, Alexa. Push. ”
Lexi strained and pushed and screamed. She lost track of how many times the doctor told her to stop and start and stop again. She hurt so badly she could hardly stand it, and she wished someone were beside her, telling her she was okay, that she was doing great. That was how it happened in the movies.
And then a baby cried. “It’s a girl,” the doctor said with a smile.
Lexi had never known before that a heart could take flight, but that was how she felt suddenly; the pain was gone—already forgotten—and angels were lifting her up. She saw the doctor hand the baby—her baby—to the nurse, and she couldn’t help reaching out to hold her. One arm lifted; the other clanged against the restraint.
“Uncuff her wrist,” the doctor said to the guard, pulling off his blue surgical cap. “Now. ”
“But—”
Dr. Farst turned to the guard. “In this room, I’m God. Take off the cuff. Leave the ankle if you have to. That should keep society safe from this teenager. ” He walked over to the bed. “You’re young,” he said.
It meant he thought she had lots of time ahead of her, that someday she’d be in a room like this, giving birth to a child that she would bring home and love. That someday she would nurse her own child.
She could have told him that he was wrong, that she wasn’t young anymore and that dreams were ephemeral things, like balloons that, once loosed, disappeared into the sky above you. But he was so nice, and she was tired, and she didn’t want to look truth in the face right now.
The nurse came up beside her, handed Lexi a tiny bundle wrapped in pink.
Her daughter.
“I’ll leave you two alone for a minute. I know … there are people waiting. ”
There was an awkward moment when truth muscled its way into the room, and then the nurse and doctor left.
Lexi stared down at her baby in awe, mesmerized by her little pink face and her bow-shaped lips, by her muddy blue eyes that seemed to know secrets that Lexi hadn’t yet learned. Lexi reached down and touched a grape-sized fist. “I have so much to say to you, little girl, but you won’t remember it. You won’t remember me. But I’ll remember you. ”
Lexi held her daughter close, gave her all the love she had inside of her, hoping to imprint her in a way that would last. “Like geese,” she whispered into the tiny, shell-pink ear, “their babies imprint on the mama in the first sighting and never forget. ”
There was a knock at the door. The guard answered, spoke to someone in the hallway outside, and then opened the door. Scot walked in. He was as rumpled as always, in a cheap wool suit and an out-of-date tie, but the look in his eyes was so caring and compassionate that she felt the start of panic. She instinctively tightened her hold on her baby.
“Hey, Lexi,” he said. At the red mark on her wrist, he frowned. “They shackled you? Motherfu—”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Look. ”
Scot leaned down. “She’s beautiful, Lexi. ” At the words, his face seemed to kind of fall. “It’s time,” he said gently.
“He’s here?” she asked, and even with all the pain that she knew was coming, her heart skipped a beat.
“He’s right outside. ”
“Help me sit up, would you, Scot?”
He helped her get positioned, then drew back. “You sure you want to do this?”
“What choice do I have?”
“You don’t have to give up full custody, that’s for sure. Whe
n you get out—”
“Look at her,” Lexi said, staring down at this beautiful girl. “She’ll be loved by them. She’ll feel loved. She’ll feel safe. She’ll have all the things I can’t give her. Believe me, Scot, she doesn’t need a mother like me. ”
“I don’t agree, but it’s your choice,” Scot said. “I’ll send him in. ”
Lexi sat up straighter, and then he was there, in the doorway.
It hurt more than she’d expected, more than the labor she’d just suffered through. He stood tall, bigger than she remembered, his shoulders broader. Wheat-blond hair fell across his eyes, and she remembered how much he used to hate that, how she’d laugh when she pushed it aside to see his eyes as he leaned down to kiss her.