“Where is she?” I ask, not bothering to get out of my truck. I can clearly see she’s not in the car with him.
“Gabby took her to the hospital. Her water broke,” he says.
I put the truck in reverse and begin to back up. “Meet me there!” I yell out the window. Shifting the truck into drive, I pull out onto the road. I don’t bother to look if there are any cars coming. Thankfully there aren’t. It’s reckless, I know, but I have to get to her. I refuse to miss my baby girl being born, and my wife needs me. They both do.
I’m dazed as I drive to the hospital. The fear of not knowing where she was or if she was okay is replaced by the fear of the unknown. I know women have been having babies for centuries, but with her gestational diabetes, I worry. She’s also a week early. Something Dr. Taylor told us could happen, but I worry about Sophia. Is she okay? A million fears and concerns race through my mind. When I finally reach the hospital, I take the first spot I can find. After yanking the keys from the ignition, I run as fast as my legs will carry me to the main entrance.
“Sir,” an older lady greets me at the front desk. “Can I help you?” she offers politely.
“My wife,” I pant. “Her water broke. She’s here.” I manage to find my words.
“Of course, how exciting,” she says. Her calmness is like a balm to my fear, and I suck in a deep breath. “What’s your wife’s name?”
“Gwendolyn Drake,” I say on exhale.
“She’s in the maternity ward.” She continues to tell me the room number.
“Thank you,” I rush to say, and jog off toward the elevators. I hit the button for the fifth floor and watch as the elevator seems to climb at a snail’s pace. At the fourth floor, I move close to the door, and as soon as they slide open on the fifth, I’m rushing out and down the hall. Her room is at the end of the hall, the door is closed, but that does nothing to hide her screams. I push open the door and take in the scene before me.
Gabby is by her side, holding her hand and her leg, while there is a nurse on the other side. Dr. Taylor is between her legs that are in stirrups. I’ve read that this takes hours, but as I process what I’m seeing, I realize the books aren’t always right.
“Harrison,” Winnie cries, and I rush to her. The nurse steps out of the way as I move in close and press my lips to hers.
“I’m sorry, baby. Everything was so messed up,” I rush to explain.
“Dad,” the nurse says, placing her hand on my arm. “We’re going to need you to hold her hand and her leg. She’s going to need help. It’s almost time to push again.”
I nod, my eyes finding Dr. Taylor’s. “You’re just in time, Harrison. You ready to meet your baby girl?”
Emotion clogs my throat as I nod. It’s impossible for me to speak. I almost missed this. Turning my attention back to my wife, I bend and press my lips to her forehead. “I-I love you,” I croak out.
She smiles. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t want to do this with-o-out y-ou,” she pants as Dr. Taylor tells her to push.
“You’re doing great,” Gabby says soothingly.
Winnie’s grip on my hand is tight as she bears down with all her might. The contraction passes, and she slumps back against the bed. Again, I bend down to kiss her. Needing that contact, that connection that flows between us. This time, I linger, resting my forehead against hers. “Thank you,” I whisper softly. There is no time to reply as another contraction comes and she’s being told to push.
“Grab her leg, Dad,” the nurse instructs.
Looking over at Gabby, I copy what she’s doing. Holding Winnie’s hand tightly in mine, I pull back on her leg, assisting her with the other.
“There you go, Gwen. Keep pushing. You’re almost there.”
Everything seems to happen at once as time stands still. Winnie exhales in relief as the cries of our baby girl fill the room. “It’s a girl,” Dr. Taylor announces.
Winnie flops back against the pillows, and her smile is radiant. “You hear that, Winnie? You did it, baby. You did it,” I say, kissing her lips.
When I pull back, her palm rests against my cheek. “You’re crying,” she says through her own tears.
“It’s not every day the woman I love makes me a father,” I tell her, not bothering to wipe my tears. I know there are more to be shed.
“Harrison.” Dr. Taylor pulls my attention away from my wife. “You want to cut the cord?”
I look down at Winnie, and she nods. With shaking hands, I make my way to the end of the bed. Dr. Taylor is holding my daughter. The nurse hands me a pair of scissors and explains to me what I need to do. My hands are shaking so badly, I have to use both of them to operate the scissors. As soon as my job is complete, the nurse takes my daughter. I don’t take my eyes off them as they clean her up and call out some kind of score. My head is too jumbled to understand. I watch as they place her on a scale and she cries, not liking that one bit. I want to step in, but I hold still. One nurse stretches her out while the other calls out her length. I watch as they prick the heel of her tiny feet making her cry. I knew this was going to happen, Dr. Taylor warned us that they would need to check her sugar right away. However, that doesn’t make it any easy to watch them draw blood from her tiny foot. Once they’re done, they then wrap her up in a blanket, place a hat on her head, and walk her to Winnie. Gabby steps back, tears streaming down her face.
“Here you go, Mommy. Her levels are good. We’ll need to test her again after she eats.” The nurse smiles as she hands Sophia, our daughter, to Winnie.
Our daughter.
Holy shit!
I’m a father.
“She’s so tiny,” Winnie says, unwrapping her and counting all ten fingers and toes. “Hey, angel, I’m your mommy,” she says as Sophia’s tiny hand wraps around her finger.
“Thank you, Winnie,” I kiss the top of her head and then turn my attention to my daughter. She’s so damn tiny, and the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.
“Seven pounds, eight ounces, and nineteen inches long,” the nurse tells us. “She passed her Apgar scores with flying colors,” she adds. “We need to feed her.”
I watch as the nurse shows Winnie how to help our baby girl latch onto her breasts. Baby girl is a champ, at least that’s what the nurse tells us and she begins to eat. The sight of my wife breastfeeding our newborn daughter is not something I was prepared for. I feel hot tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away. These two ladies, they are my entire world. I stare at them in wonder, until Sophia’s little belly is full. The nurse takes her to again test her sugar, then brings her back to Winnie.
Winnie looks up at me, our daughter belly full, and sleeping in her arms, and I can only imagine that the wonder on her face is the same that’s reflected to her on mine. “She’s beautiful.” I lean down and kiss the top of Sophia’s tiny head, before kissing my wife on her lips. “Just like her momma.”
“You want to hold her?” she asks.
I nod. I’m scared to death I’m going to break her. She’s so damn tiny, but at the same time, I’ve been waiting months to hold her in my arms. My baby girl. My palms are sweaty, and my hands are shaking. If Winnie notices, she doesn’t mention it. She lifts her arms, and I scoop mine underneath, taking Sophia from her. “Hey, baby girl,” I choke out. “I’m your daddy.”
I lift her head to place another soft kiss there. Never in a million years did I think I could love anyone the way I love Winnie. This tiny little pink bundle, who has her little fist wrapped around my pinky, also has my heart in the palm of her hands, just like her momma. “You’re beautiful,” I whisper to her. “Not dating until you’re thirty,” I say, causing everyone in the room to crack up laughing. Lifting my head, I see Winnie smiling, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I told you this already,” I remind her.
“That you did,” she agrees.
“Congratulations, you guys,” Gabby says, wiping her eyes.
“Hey, Soph,” I say to my daughter. “You ready to meet your Aunt G
abby?” I stand tall, and carefully pass her over the bed to Gabby.
“Hey, sweet girl. I’m your Aunt Gabby,” she introduces herself. “You have a beautiful name for a beautiful little girl,” she murmurs. “What’s her middle name? Have you all decided?” she asks, not taking her eyes off my daughter.
Winnie looks up at me, and I nod. We talked about it a few days ago. It was my suggestion, and she loved it. “We have,” I tell her.
“Well, are you going to tell me?” She finally looks up.
“I mean, do you really want to know?” I tease.
“Your Daddy and your Uncle Chase, they like to tease me. I’m glad you’re a girl. We need more women to drown them out,” she tells my sleeping daughter. “Gwenny?”
Winnie chuckles through her smile. “Her name is Sophia Gabrielle Drake.”
I watch Gabby as she processes what Winnie just said. “What?” she asks, her voice almost inaudible.
“We’d like for you to be her godmother. If something were to ever happen to us, we want to know she’s loved and well cared for.”