FIFTY-TWO
COLT
“Why isn’t she crying?” Blair asks the nurse, watching her like a hawk. I feel immediately stupid for not wondering the same thing. I’d been so happy to see Blair smiling, to see our baby delivered, and Blair safe that it hadn’t even occurred to me the room was too quiet.
The nurse replies with a sweet tone I can tell she’s used to injecting into her voice, but it sounds almost distracted.
“She’s working on it, just give her a moment.”
She takes our daughter off Blair’s chest a moment later, straight to the little bed with the light over it. I’m tall enough to see over most of the nurses’ heads, even at this distance, as they rub her and use a bulb to suction out her mouth and nose. It all looks so… rough.
“She’s fine,” I tell Blair, though I have no clue if she is or not. All I can focus on is being strong for Blair.
“Come on, baby,” one of the nurses whispers as they flick her feet. Another one calls for more doctors to come in, while a third mentions that her heart rate is good. A small bit of hope flourishes in my stomach.
I pull Blair’s hand up to my lips to press a kiss to it, eyes still locked on the nurses .
“She’s okay. They said her heart rate is good,” I tell her again, not sure if she’s able to hear them or even focus on what they’re saying through her panic.
Another nurse is massaging Blair’s stomach, also attempting to reassure her.
“She’s just slow to transition. Some are.”
It feels like way too long has passed when I notice my daughter’s lips moving.
I don’t even have time to update Blair when the shrillest cry pierces the room.
Blair immediately sobs while the nurses coo and continue to rub the baby.
I finally allow myself to stop being so strong, bending over the head of Blair’s bed to bury my face against her hair and cry.
That was so fucking scary.
“Hi, baby,” Blair coos as our daughter is returned to her chest, still screaming her little lungs off. I lift my head again to watch as Blair places her hands on our baby’s head and back, immediately thumbing through her sparse, black hair.
“She’s okay?” she asks the nurse anxiously.
“She’s completely fine,” they reassure her, adjusting the blankets around them. “Breathing is hard work and it just takes a little longer to get the hang of it sometimes.”
“But she’s okay?” she asks again. If the nurse finds it annoying, she doesn’t act like it. She only smiles and nods before giving us our privacy.
Blair looks up at me with the prettiest, most exhausted smile and I can’t help but lean down and kiss her.
“She’s so perfect. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“She is,” Blair agrees, hair clinging to her forehead with sweat as she plays with our baby’s fingers. I don’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful to me.
“Fuck, I love you. Can I be your husband?”
Blair snorts, which makes the baby jolt a bit. She cradles her head as she says, “Sure, cowboy. You can be my husband, but ask again later with a ring.”
I laugh at that and kiss her on the forehead .
“Okay, deal.” It’s only then that I notice Mama is hovering and wave her over. “Come see your grandbaby.”
Her eyes flick over to Blair, who smiles just as wide and invitingly.
“She’s absolutely gorgeous, Blair,” Mama says, kissing her future daughter-in-law’s forehead. “You did so good.”
It’s a bit of a whirlwind again after that. Blair delivers the placenta, which I wish I never witnessed, all while our daughter rests on her chest. I can’t take my eyes off of them for anything in the world and I keep getting angry at my tears for blurring the sight of my girls.
She lays back against the pillows, exhausted.
“That really fucking hurt.”