The Truth

“A very healthy-looking baby boy,” Dr. Reynolds says, laying the baby on Tiffany’s belly. I’m trying to see, but a nurse is rubbing a towel over him to clean him up.

“He’s beautiful,” Tiffany cries, lost in the most wondrous moment of joy.

“Yes, you are,” I whisper to her. She doesn’t hear me, but that’s okay.

The doctor places clamps on the cord, holding out a pair of scissors. “Dad, do you want the honors?” I take the scissors, looking at my son and my wife. I can’t believe this is my life now. I never would’ve dreamed it, but I’m damn glad Tiffany did.

My hand shakes a little as I move the scissors, not from nerves but with the gravity of the moment. But once it’s done, the nurse wraps our little boy up like a burrito.

Tiffany holds out her arms, and they hand the baby back to her. I hover over them both, vowing over and over to protect and love them. Tiffany looks up at me in wonder. “Look what we did. What we made.”

“We did good,” I tell her. Her eyes drop back to the bundle in her arms, and mine follow. “He’s beautiful.”

Every parent thinks that about their baby, even when they come out red and wrinkly with a smushy face. But our boy actually is beautiful. Beneath the little hat, he has a shock of dark, thick hair like his mother, and his eyes open to reveal a blue quite similar to mine.

I lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “Hi there, Nate.”

Tiffany has had crazy pregnancy dreams for months. She says the first one was when she was passed out, but they haven’t stopped since then. Mostly, she wakes up laughing as she tells me about conversations she’s had with our dream baby, but a few months ago, she had a different sort of dream.

“We were in the park, flying a kite with a toddler. And then you swooped him up, Superman-ing him through the air, teasing that he was a kite and might blow away. He was so happy, his little giggles so loud. And he squealed out, calling for me, and I answered back, ‘You’re the cutest kite I’ve ever seen, Nate!’ It was like this sense of peace filled me, and I knew everything was going to be okay. We’re going to be a happy family—you, me, and Nate.”

How do you argue with that?

I’ll tell you—you don’t.

And our son has been Nate ever since. Seeing him now, it makes sense. He is a Nate.

Once everything is cleaned up and the room looks like a regular hospital room again, Dr. Reynolds and the nurses leave us alone for some family time.

We watch Nate, just staring at him in disbelief that he’s finally here.

He yawns, falling asleep, and we both coo over him for a moment, entranced. Yes, it’s just a baby yawning. No, it’s not a huge trick. But he’s our son.

Unbidden, I yawn in answer, and Tiffany laughs. "You're tired? Really?"

I shrug sheepishly, and Tiffany gingerly scoots over in the bed to make room. “Get up here then.”

I do not need to be told twice to snuggle with my wife and son. Just as carefully, I slowly lie down next to Tiffany, sliding an arm beneath her head so that she can lean against my chest. Nate rests between us in Tiffany’s arms.

I never thought this would be the life I’d be living—married to my daughter’s best friend, the incredible woman who made me trust in love again, and holding a new baby at fifty. It’s an age where a lot of men are looking at putting life on cruise control.

Me? I’m looking forward to the adventure the next few decades are going to bring.

Maybe after that, I’ll think about getting old. The truth is, while I never knew I wanted this, it’s everything I need now.

I kiss Tiffany’s forehead and then the top of Nate’s head one last time. “I love you both so much.”

Tiffany, who’s closed her eyes, smiles sleepily. “I love you too, Daddy.”