The night before my parents arrive for their Thanksgiving visit, I confess as much to him, tearfully explaining that I don’t think I have enough years left to make more than two or three babies, and that’s if we’re really lucky.
But Cam, true to form, just hugs me and swears, “You’re all I need, baby. You and Crissy. If we can’t have other children, it’s okay. I’ll still feel like the luckiest man in the world as long as you’re mine and I’m yours.”
And then we make love without thinking about making babies or whether or not I’m in a fertile window and…just like that, our dream comes true.
Nine months later, we welcome Eleanor Delilah Barbu-Brennan the First into the world in our master bath.
After just thirty minutes of pushing, the midwife lays my squalling girl on my chest and Cam wraps his arms around both of us, weeping with gratitude right along with me for our miracle.
And in the morning, we wake Crissy with her new baby sister in our arms and my sweet girl is beside herself with joy. As I watch her hold Ellie for the first time, tears run down my face like a leaky faucet, but I can’t stop smiling.
I just feel so blessed and lucky.
Later that day, as Henri and Adam stop by with an embarrassment of baby presents and Jess swings in to watch Crissy as Cam and I field phone calls from friends and family and keep baby Ellie fed and changed, the feeling continues to grow until it feels like my heart is on fire in my chest.
Finally, as we tuck Ellie into her bassinet by the bed and lie down to grab a couple of hours of sleep before she wakes for her next feeding, I turn to Cam and whisper, “I’m not sure I can handle another baby. I’m already so happy it feels like my heart is going to explode. Another blessing might kill me.”
“Me, too,” he says. “She’s so beautiful. And terrifying. I just want to put her in a bubble and protect her from everything forever.”
“You’re the best dad,” I say with a sigh. “Our girls won the papa lottery.”
“No, I won the lottery.” He kisses my forehead. “I love you.”
“Love you,” I agree, snuggling closer to his chest and falling asleep so hard and fast I’m still a little out of it when Ellie starts screeching at two a.m.
But Cam is already out of bed, changing her and settling her into my arms to nurse. He stays awake until she’s finished, taking over burping so I can run to the bathroom and put balm on my already-tender nipples.
By the time I lie back down, he already has Ellie re-swaddled and back in her bassinet, rocking her gently with his foot as he draws me into his arms.
He’s a rock star parenting partner that night and every night after.
So, I don’t think anyone is that surprised when we’re pregnant again just ten months later. Erica’s birth isn’t nearly as easy and we end up in the hospital for an emergency C-section, but our third baby girl emerges with dancing blue eyes the same color as her daddy’s and the longest fingers I’ve ever seen.
Cam’s already planning her future as a concert pianist by the time I’m stitched up and rolled into the recovery room. I prop myself up in bed to hold Erica, marveling over her perfect little nose, just as Cam gets a text that one of our nearest and dearest is here, too, and in active labor just a few rooms away.
And of course, I would share more, but that isn’t my story to tell.
But I will say that it’s an excellent story.
“But not quite as excellent as ours,” I tell Cam when he returns from checking in on our friend and fetching cookies from the vending machine.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“I was just thinking that our love story is my favorite,” I say, accepting the kiss he presses to my lips with a happy sigh.
“Well, of course,” he says. “We’re the best. Your mom is downstairs with the girls, by the way. They’ll be up in a few. Crissy can’t wait to meet Erica and Ellie is apparently saying ‘dada’ nonstop. I’ll need to take her on an adventure around the hospital. Get in some daddy-daughter time before your mom takes them home.”
And he does, because he is the best father and the best husband, and two years later, when we decide we’re done trying for number four, he takes the end of our baby-making years with the good grace I’ve come to expect from The Cutest Boy in the World.
Though, he’s every bit a man now, my man, and he always will be.
Thank goodness.