I want to slap him and tell him to shut the hell up, but I clamp my mouth shut, bear down, and push with all I have. I’m ready to meet my sons. I’m just about ready to give up, exhausted, when I hear a cry echo through the room. This time it’s not mine; it’s our son’s.
“It’s a boy,” Dr. Hatfield confirms.
I strain my tired neck to try and get a glimpse of him. They clean him up as best as they can then bring him to me, resting him on my chest. “Hey, handsome,” I coo as tears fill my eyes. Nine months of fighting to keep them safe, and now here they are. “I’m your mommy,” I whisper. Looking over at Ty, he’s watching us with tears in his eyes.
“I love you, Reagan Justice. And this little guy.” He softly traces our baby’s cheek with his index finger. “I’m your daddy, and I love you so much,” Ty says, his battle with his tears lost as one slides down his cheek.
“All right, you ready for baby B?” Dr. Hatfield asks as one of the team scoops in and takes our son from us.
“He’s crowning, so when I say push, I want you to push with all you’ve got. You’re almost there.”
I nod, suck in a breath, and slowly exhale. The nurse and Ty have my legs, and my grip on the bedsheets is tight. I’m ready to do this.
“Now,” Dr. Hatfield says, and I bear down with all I have. It takes three more times before the cries of our second son fill the room. We get to meet him just like we did his brother before the other team whisks him away.
“Are they okay?” I ask.
“Perfect,” one of the nurses from Team Baby A says. She brings the baby to us and lays him on my chest. “This little guy scored great on his Apgar scores weighing in at five pounds and six ounces, and nineteen and a half inches long. Born at four thirteen,” she says.
“And this little guy.” Another nurse, this one from Team Baby B, hands him off to Tyler. “His scores were great as well. He’s five pounds four ounces and nineteen inches long. Born at four thirty-three.”
The doctor and nurses are scurrying around the room and still working on me, but all I can see are my babies and my husband. So much has happened so quickly, but I wouldn’t change this, not one single second of it for anything in the world.
“Thank you,” Tyler whispers. “Thank you for loving me and for giving us these two boys to love.” He leans in and kisses me softly. “You killed it, Momma.” He grins.
“We killed it.” I could never have gotten through all of this without him by my side. He was my rock, and I know without a doubt, he will continue to be so throughout our lives. I’m overwhelmed with emotions. Happiness, joy, relief, and most of all, I’m thankful. So damn thankful. I’m thankful for my husband, for two healthy, happy babies. Babies I was told I would never have. Babies I thought I might lose just a mere few months ago. Now here they are in our arms. Two beautiful healthy baby boys.
I’m a momma.
Chapter 22
Tyler
* * *
My boys are a few hours old, and already they hold my heart in the palms of their tiny hands. And their mother, my wife, she’s amazing. She handled the delivery like she has this entire pregnancy. She kicked ass and took names. Once the doctor had her cleaned up, our parents and Ridge came in to meet them. They didn’t stay long knowing how exhausted she was. The staff offered to take the boys, but we wanted to keep them with us. That brings me to now. I’m sitting in the chair that turns into a bed, holding each baby in an arm. They’re so tiny, but the staff assures me for twins they are big boys. They ate like champs the first time. I’m glad Reagan decided to bottle feed so I can help her. I already know we’re going to have our hands full with these two.
We’ve yet to decide on names. We’ve tossed around dozens, maybe even hundreds. We have a couple of favorites but agreed to see them first before we made any decisions. Although they are fraternal twins, they still look so much alike. Baby A, as we’ve been calling him, has a little more hair than Baby B. Other than that, there is nothing that physically gives an indication they they’re not identical. Dr. Hatfield said even though they’re not identical, they can still have very strong similar traits. I can’t wait to watch them grow up.
“When Mommy wakes up, we’ll decide what we’re going to call you. It’s a big deal, you know,” I whisper to them, trying not to wake Reagan. They don’t seem to have a care in the world as they slumber in my arms.
“Hey.” Her groggy voice greets me.
“How are you feeling?”
“Sore, but good. How long did I manage to sleep?”
“You were exhausted.” I look down at my boys in my arms. “Tell Mommy Happy Valentine’s Day,” I whisper.
“I forgot all about that.” She laughs. “That’s their birthday.”
“Pretty cool, huh. I can already see them using that with the ladies.” I grin, and she just shakes her head.
“Did you sleep?”
“Nah, couldn’t seem to get my mind to rest.” I smile over at her. “You want to hold them?”
She nods, her eyes shimmering with tears. Carefully, I stand and transfer one then the other into her arms. “I love them so much,” she says reverently.
“I love you. And our boys.” I wasn’t certain this day would ever be here. I’ve spent the last several months praying to anyone who was listening to keep my sons and my wife safe. Now here we are and all three are healthy. I couldn’t ask for more. “You ready to pick names?”
“Yeah, I guess we need to do that.” She chuckles. “Thoughts?”
“I’ve been running through the list in my head for the last couple of hours, but I have other suggestions. If you’re open to them.”
“Of course I am.”
“Okay, well, I was thinking Beckett. It’s a strong name and your maiden name. It will keep a part of your roots in our family.”
She swallows hard. “I love you. I-I wish I’d thought of it.” She laughs, a lone tear escaping her watery eyes.
Reaching out, I wipe it away with my thumb. “And then I was thinking Benjamin,” I say, looking at my family.
“Your middle name.”
“Yeah, I know they have the Justice last name, but I was trying to think of something that went well with Beckett, and well, that’s what I came up with.”
“I love both of them. Middle names?”
“Yeah, I didn’t get that far.” I chuckle.
“How about Benjamin Tyler?”
“Both of my names?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I think it sounds good. “And maybe Beckett Alexander. That’s Ridge, my dad’s, and Knox’s middle name.”
“Beckett Alexander Justice,” I try the name. “Benjamin Tyler Justice,” I try the other.
“Well?” Reagan asks.
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I like both of those.” My heart swells,
knowing these little guys are holding family names—the two tiny humans who are a part of me and a part of Reagan. I swallow back the emotion that threatens to break free. Who would have thought becoming a father would cause so many swarming emotions? I mean, I knew it would, but I could never have imagined the impact of watching our babies grow inside her and witnessing them being brought into the world. It’s life altering in the best of ways.
Pulling into our driveway, I see both my mom and my mother-in-law’s cars. I smile over at my wife. “It’s like they know we’re exhausted,” I tell her.
She chuckles. “Right? These little guys are a handful.”
I’m hoping now that we’re home, we’ll get more sleep. Between the boys’ feeding schedule, diaper changes, and the nursing staff coming to check on us, sleep was hard to come by during our stay at the hospital. Pulling into the garage, I climb out of the SUV and rush around to get her door. Her mom appears and takes over.
“I can walk,” Reagan tells her.
“Honey, just let us help. You need to take it easy.” Reagan sighs, but relaxes into her mom as they walk into the house.
“Need some help?” Mom asks me, appearing beside me. “Sure, grab a baby.” I throw her a wink, and she smiles.
“I know they’re not identical, but I still can’t tell them apart.” She laughs.
“Beckett has on the dark blue hat. Benjamin has on the dark green one.” She nods, grabs Benjamin’s seat, and carries him into the house. Heidi immediately takes Beckett from his seat while my mom has Benjamin.
“You two go on upstairs and take a nap,” she tells us.
“Mom,” Reagan starts. “We just got home.”
“And you need to let us help you. I know the two of you are exhausted. We’re here for as long as you need us. Take a hot shower and get rested. Helen made dinner, and I handled stocking up on quick, easy foods. Now go.” She doesn’t even spare us another glance as she sits next to my mom on the couch, both of them cooing at the baby in their arms.
“Rest when they rest and remember, it’s okay to ask for help. That’s what the nurse said who discharged you,” I remind my wife.