Chapter 4 Delaney
Delaney
YEARS LATER
I wanted this crap to be over already. Somehow, I’d forgotten how painful labor was. But that had been more than thirteen years ago, so it was reasonable that my memory was shoddy. Ronan was a freaking teenager now, and there I was, about to push another baby into the world.
But it was different this time, on so many levels.
No one was having to stand behind the midwife, my dear friend Vey, to sign me instructions on what I needed to do.
It was just Max and me with Vey and a few other nurses.
Aunt Kelli was in the waiting room with Raven and Lexa and the rest of our family.
Their support had been so amazing the last time—but also overwhelming.
For so long, I’d thought Ronan was going to be our one and only.
We hadn’t exactly done anything to prevent getting pregnant again, but we weren’t openly trying either.
I was fine with one child. The universe had already given me so much.
There was no use in getting greedy. As far as miracles went, I’d definitely gotten my fair share.
And then suddenly, I was losing my breakfast and missing a period. We rolled with this new development, much like we did with everything else life threw at us.
It had been magical when I’d finally gotten to hear Ronan’s laughter for the first time.
Learning his cries was less joyful, but still pretty amazing.
I mean, a baby crying all the time sounded the same until you learned the patterns.
Those notes that alerted to specific needs.
His cry for when he was hungry was so different from the one he had when he was mad or lonely or needed to be changed.
But Max had already experienced those sounds, the sweet laughs, the adorable giggles, the many distinct cries.
This time, I was going to get to experience all of my baby’s firsts right alongside Max.
“You’re doing great, Del.” Vey’s calm voice reached me as I dropped back from my latest push. “We’re almost there.” I gave her a tired glare, and that had her smiling. “When you’re ready.”
Another contraction hit, and Max helped me through it as I pushed and pushed and pushed. I felt like I was being ripped apart.
“Head and shoulders are out,” Vey announced, her attention on the baby.
She worked with a confidence that eased my fears of the unknown.
I’d asked her to be the one to be in the delivery room instead of Dr. Miller when my due date got closer.
Yes, it was better for her to be there than the male doctor to prevent Max from going postal, but I trusted Vey in a way I found hard to explain.
“One more push,” she coached, and I grabbed my husband’s hand, needing his strength and the comfort of knowing he was beside me.
And then the baby was being placed on my chest, and Vey was rubbing her with a towel. There was so much dark hair, just like when Ronan was born. But where was the cry?
Hands shaking, from the hours of labor, the exhaustion of pushing new life into the world, the fear of not hearing that cry I had been so excited to hear…
Wide eyes blinked at me, that beautiful face scrunching up, but instead of a cry, I got a glower that reminded me so much of Max, I couldn’t contain a small giggle.
“Hello, precious girl,” I cooed to my daughter, who was one hundred percent a Reid. Love exploded in my chest, another shot of happiness so powerful tears spilled down my face as I cradled my girl closer.
A choked sob reached my ears, but not the one I was expecting.
Lifting my gaze, I found Max watching me with our daughter, his emotions uncontainable as he lowered his head and kissed me.
“You did so well, treasure,” he choked out.
“Our girl is beautiful. You’re amazing. I—” He broke off as another sob left him.
Vey didn’t seem particularly concerned that the baby wasn’t crying.
She hid her smile as she began tending to the afterbirth and getting me sewn up.
I felt the sting and burn as she numbed me up.
No epidural had been part of my birth plan, but I’d almost begged for one when I’d been stuck dilated at seven for two hours.
It had gone from seven to ten quickly, though, and I was glad I’d waited it out.
I barely paid her much attention, too lost in how beautiful my daughter was.
“Okay, Momma, are we ready to get baby Reid’s vitals?” the nurse asked as she appeared beside us.
I tightened my arms around my girl, not wanting the moment to be over yet.
I just wanted a little more time to memorize the way she looked right then, with her pink skin and dark hair.
Those thick, long lashes, the scrunched brows, that adorable little nose and pouty lips.
I counted all ten of her fingers and toes, then counted them again because once wasn’t enough.
And the entire time, she just looked up at me, like she couldn’t believe that this was what she’d spent nine months cooking away in my belly to be born into.
Vey shifted between the nurse and me. “We can give Mommy a few more minutes before we get weight and measurements.”
Shooting her a quick, grateful smile, I quickly turned my focus back on my baby.
“Hello, sweet Phoenix,” I murmured. It had taken us forever to decide on a name, but as soon as Ronan had suggested Phoenix, I was in love with it.
It fit a girl or a boy, but by then, we’d already known we were expecting a girl.
She was our rebirth, another miracle, one I’d never take for granted, just like every other one I’d been blessed with.
“Max, are you ready to cut the cord?” Vey asked, offering him a set of surgical scissors. I was so entranced by the sight of our Phee that I hadn’t even realized we’d delayed that part.
His hands were steady as he made the cut, and then he was reaching for our girl.
She released a loud sigh, a sniffling kind of sound, like she was content in his embrace.
Another rush of love and happiness warmed me.
She looked so small in his arms. He held and rocked her with such delicate care, the giant angel of death holding his little girl for the first time.
“Hello, little bird.” His voice was lower, still choked with tears, but somehow steady. He pressed a kiss to her head, which earned him a huff. “You are the most beautiful baby. Our perfect little Phee. Daddy is here to love and protect you, little bird. Always.”
Walking over to the nurse, he reluctantly placed her on the scale.
As soon as he released her, a loud, unhappy squall filled the room.
There it was, that cry I’d been waiting for.
And it was worth the wait.