7 Months (Time for Love 8)

Taking after his father, our son was stubborn.

First, he’d refused to drop and turn, instead remaining breech. We’d had an appointment a couple of weeks ago where the doctor had tried to manually turn the baby, but our son wouldn’t budge. We’d been scheduled to try again later this week, but not wanting to go by anyone else’s timeline, our son had decided this morning that he was ready to come out and meet us in person. Ming’s water had broken at five thirty this morning and by seven, she was already having an emergency C-section.

It was the most terrifying experience of my life. Ming was fine with it.

I’d watched as they cut her open and literally lifted her insides and placed them on the outside of her body.

When I’d almost passed out, the doctor had suggested I stopped watching what they were doing and focused on my wife.

I’d been happy to comply.

I’d held her hand, which was strapped down. I couldn’t deny that when they’d first started strapping my wife to the table that my first instinct had been to kick the nurse’s ass, but they’d calmed me down and explained it was for her safety.

Still, I hated seeing her tied down that way.

I could tell she didn’t like it either, and when a lone tear slid down her face, I crouched next to her and told her how much I loved her.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’ll be holding our baby before you know it. You’re doing great, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Ming had whispered sadly, then we heard the first cry of our baby.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor said, and I kissed Ming softly on the forehead, then pushed back her hair and said, “We have a son.”

&n

bsp; Ming smiled there, her laugh small, but happy, and I knew the worst was over.

Or at least, I’d thought it was, but then I made the mistake of looking over the curtain as one nurse took my son away, and caught a glimpse of them putting my wife back together.

I moved away quickly.

Ming read the horror on my face and laughed quietly, so I bent to her and said again, “You’re amazing. I love you.”

I was sent to the nursery with the baby, while they finished closing Ming up, and as soon as he was cleaned up, they placed him in my arms.

It was the most beautiful moment of my life.

He had the O’Malley head of hair, but was the spitting image of my wife, and I couldn’t’ wait to see him in her arms.

Mr. and Mrs. Li went in to see her while I went to tell the others, and when I came back with Brock, Brendan, Bronagh, and Cass, the baby was with them and Ming was holding him close.

“Oh, you’re feeding him,” I said, when I realized she wasn’t just holding him, but that he was nursing. I hurried over, sad that I’d missed this first milestone, but when I saw our son latched on to her breast, the sadness was gone, replaced by a feeling that I couldn’t name, because I’d never felt it before.

I sat down on the side of the bed, and touched my son’s head reverently.

Brock moved to the other side of the bed and I smiled at the sight of his large finger caressing the tiny curve of my son’s cheek.

“Desmond Koichi O’Malley, meet your Uncle Brock,” I said, softly, then laughed when Brendan walked over and told Brock to get out of his way.

“Wait your turn,” was Brock’s reply.

I never thought I could be happier than I was the day that Ming walked toward me down the aisle, looking breathtaking in a floor-length ivory gown, her hair in soft waves around her face, and her face gloriously beautiful.

But Ming had proven me wrong countless times since then.

The day she came home, vibrating with excitement because she’d made partner.

The day she’d made me a celebratory dinner to celebrate my making detective, which was followed with celebratory lingerie.