I watched my mom stroke Avery’s hair, her eyes filled with love for my wife. She had become a second daughter to her and my dad, and the sister Caitlin never had. I had become Doug’s “favorite son-in-law,”—a term he enjoyed throwing around when teasing me. He and Janett had become part of the family and visited regularly during the pregnancy. I had a feeling we’d see even more of them now the babies had arrived.
I dropped a kiss on my mom’s head, a gentle one to Avery’s smooth cheek and left to go back to my children.
The unit was quiet when I returned the next day with Avery. We watched our little miracles together, our hands held tight. Her poignant reaction to seeing them made my throat ache with emoti
on.
“Dr. Pritchard says he is sure they’ll only have to stay a few weeks,” I told her, keeping my voice low.
“I can’t wait to hold them.”
I knew how she felt. We were allowed to touch them gently, skin to skin, but as a precaution, we hadn’t held them yet.
“Soon, I promise. Only a couple more days.” I kissed her hand. “You ready to choose their names?”
“Maggie Rose,” she replied with no hesitation.
I laughed at her decisive tone. She’d been firm on that name for a while. I liked it; it was pretty, so I nodded in agreement.
“And?”
“You choose the next one.”
“I still like Carter as a name. And we can use your dad’s as the middle one.”
“Suck up. You’re already the favorite.”
I laughed at her teasing. “Just cementing it in for life.”
“Carter Douglas Spencer?”
“Yes. It’s a good strong name for our oldest.”
Avery grinned. “Oldest by one minute. Carter Spencer. I like that.”
Both boys had been born before Maggie—a fact I knew they would hold over her the rest of their lives.
“Okay.” I reached into the tent, placing my hand on my son’s back. “Our middle child.”
“Our troublemaker.”
Avery insisted he was the one who caused her the most grief in her pregnancy—pushing on her bladder and shoving the other two for room. One of them had been in constant motion, often a tiny hand or foot clearly visible through her skin, pushing and shifting. My other two children came out quiet and laidback, but he arrived, screaming and red-faced, arms flailing and legs kicking, letting us know he wasn’t pleased to be outside his warm nest. It only made sense he’d been the active one inside, as well.
“Dylan?” I offered. It had been on both our lists. “It sounds like a good name for a troublemaker.”
“Dylan,” Avery repeated. “Dylan Spencer. What about a middle name? Sean after your dad?”
“Dylan Sean Spencer,” I mused. “It does sound good.” I transferred my hand to each of the other babies, keeping my touch light as I gazed down on them. I sat back down beside Avery. “Carter, Dylan, and Maggie. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“I have a feeling those three names will be shouted out in succession many times over the next twenty years. Although, if he holds true to your prediction, Dylan’s name will be the first one I shout.”
Avery cupped my cheek. “You’re going to be a great daddy.”
I covered her hand with mine as my eyes filled with tears of tremendous emotion. The last couple days, the stress, and excitement crashed over me, and I felt vulnerable. It was something I knew only Avery would understand. “I love them so much,” I whispered. “I love you.”
She moved closer, and I met her partway so there wasn’t more pressure on her incision. Her lips met mine. “We love you. All of us.”