Chapter Sixty-Four
Linc
“ M r. Hudson?”
I look up. I’m beginning to associate my last name being called with a rush of anxiety. “Yes?”
“I’m Nathan. I’m going to take you back to get ready to meet your daughter.”
“Go get ‘em, Daddy.” Audrey pats my knee.
“Don’t tell Mel you called me that.”
“I don’t even want to know.” She smiles at me. “Tell Millie we all love her.”
“I will.”
I follow Nathan through the doors and down the hall. He walks me through the process of hand washing, gowns, and shoe covers. He recommends that I remove my shirt and put my gown on with the opening in the front, so we could do skin-to-skin contact. I read about it in one of the baby books we have at home. The book said it was beneficial to the baby, so I am more than willing to do it.
Nathan runs through the result of the battery of tests that they ran on Millie, and he assures me that she made it through the accident unscathed. He tells me that since she was born a few weeks early, she’ll start in NICU for a few days to make sure she is monitored.
He has me sit in a chair in the room full of machines and other babies, telling me he’ll be right back. I fidget with the gown and fix it so my chest is bare.
The door opens, and he’s pushing a cart, bringing her over to me. Then I hear her, I hear her crying. That cry means she’s okay, she’s here. I never thought I could love a sound so much. Then I smile because I think of Mel’s laugh that first night. I can love a sound that much.
I guess I’m a sucker for loud women.
Nathan unwraps Millie from her blanket, leaving her in the tiniest diaper I’ve seen yet, gently lifts her, and hands her to me. The emotions surging through me are almost more than I can bear as I hold her for the first time. She’s warm against me, with a little pink beanie on her head. Her face is scrunched up, cheeks pink as she cries.
“Millie, it’s Dad.” Her crying calms. Is the feeling of my skin helping or does she recognize my voice? I’m fighting everything inside me not to let the tears fall. It’s a feeling I never thought of, that I would have the ability to comfort her. “You need to try to be quiet. You have roommates that are trying to sleep.”
I look down at her, touch her hand, feel her hair. I haven’t held a lot of babies, but I think she has a lot of hair. It’s light like mine. Her skin is pale, and she does in fact have Mel’s nose. I can see Mel’s beauty, and her eyes are shaped like mine.
She’s the perfect mix of pieces of us.
“Millie, do you know you’re the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen?” I run a finger along her cheek. “Mom’s just taking a nap. You’ll see her in a little bit.” I move her so her head is by my neck, her body flush against mine, and I rock her. She’s so tiny, so new. I’m filled with so much love that I think my ribs might break.
“There are a lot of people here who really love you and your mom. They’re out in the waiting room. I can ask our friend Nathan when they can meet you. You’re going to love them. Well, I don’t know about Marcus. He can be grumpy sometimes, but I bet you can win him over.”
Looking down at her, my heart feels conflicted. I’m experiencing the biggest moment of my life, holding our baby, while Mel is in the operating room. I imagined us experiencing this together. For a split second, I imagine if I had to do this all on my own. I curse the intrusive thought.
“I love you so much, baby girl.” This love, her existence, the way she connects Mel and me, changes everything. I’m a father. It’s all real, and I feel it. As I stare down at her, I know I would move hell or high water for her or her mother.
Nathan comes back with a bottle. “You can try to give this to her. Not sure if she’ll take it yet, but we can try.”
He helps me get the bottle situated, and she takes a bit at a few short clips, but not much after that. Nathan takes the bottle back.
“Good job, Dad. We’ll try again in a little while.”
I sit with Millie for over an hour. My eyes keep going to the clock above the door. It’s been nearly three hours waiting to get some sort of news. Each minute feels like an eternity, like time has stopped until I know Mel is going to be okay, until I can see her, touch her. I do my best to focus on Millie, but it’s hard.
“Hey, Linc.” Nathan approaches. The guy is like a ninja. I didn’t even hear him come into the room.
“Hey, Nathan.”
“The doctor would like to update you on Melonie. Let me take Millie, and you can go talk with her.”
“Okay.” I glance down at Millie’s sleeping face, and as if I haven’t been studying her this entire time, I try to memorize every feature as quickly as I can.
“I’m going to go check on Mama. I’ll be back.”
I kiss her forehead and reluctantly hand her to Nathan. I tie the gown I’m wearing and walk to the door. When I step outside, Dr. McIntyre is waiting for me.
“Linc, how is Millie?”
“She’s amazing. Please tell me you have good news about Melonie.”
She gives me a small smile. “Melonie’s out of surgery. No internal bleeding, nothing beyond the concussion on the MRI. We set her ankle in a cast, and she did well. She woke up about ten minutes ago.”
I feel like I can actually breathe now. “Can I please see her?”
“You can.” She pauses and waits for my attention. “Now, Linc, she’s been through a lot today. She has bruises, her ankle was broken, she’s fighting a concussion. She’s on some medication for the pain. She will probably be in and out of sleep.”
“That’s fine. I won’t throw any parties in there. I just really need to see her.”
She slowly nods. “Come on, I’ll take you to her.”
I open the door to Mel’s room as quietly as I can. When I see her, my heart sinks. There’s a cut stitched up on her forehead, a bruise on her shoulder where the seatbelt was, and a cast on her ankle.
I walk toward her, and her eyes find me. “Hi, pretty boy.” Her voice is quiet, and her eyes are sleepy.
“Hey, bubbles.” She smiles as best as she can. I sit in the chair next to her bed and gently slip my hand under hers. The warmth of her hand in mine lets relief wash over me.
“How is Millie?”
“Mel, she’s so perfect.” I reach up and rake my hand through her hair. “You did so good.”
“They told me I could see her in a few minutes.”
I slowly raise her hand to my lips.
“I love you so much, Mel.”
“I love you, too. Today was really scary.”
“It was.”
“I was afraid I was going to die. I was in so much pain, and I couldn’t open my eyes. All I could think about was leaving you and Millie.”
“Mel—”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you sooner.” I reach up and wipe a tear from her cheek.
“It’s okay, Mel. We both could have said it. But things happen how they’re supposed to happen. You allowed me the space to learn how to love you the way you needed me to. And if I had pressured you with what I was feeling, I would have pushed you away. We wouldn’t be where we are right now if we changed the past. What matters now is we have Millie and you’re going to be okay. I say things worked out pretty great.”
“You’re always such an optimist.”
I look into her eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t keep an organized fridge.”
She gently slaps my hand and smiles at me. “There’s still time to work on that.”
“Yeah, we have time.”
There’s a soft knock on the door. Nathan opens it and wheels Millie in. Melonie’s face lights up, and she focuses on the cart.
“Mel, if you would like to do skin-to-skin, we can lower the top of your gown a little. Linc, can you go wash up again?”
I rise from my chair and softly kiss Mel’s hair. I go to wash up, and when I return, he has me stand next to Mel in case she needs help.
“If you experience pain, please tell me. You can give her to Linc or myself. And don’t overexert yourself. You need a lot of rest right now.”
“Got it.”
He hands Millie to her, and she looks down at our daughter, eyes full of love.
“Oh my God. Hi, baby girl.” Her voice is shaky. “I missed you.”
I pull out my phone and take a picture.
“Linc, I look horrible.” She doesn’t look up, still taking Millie in.
“It’s the first picture I have of my girls. I think it’s beautiful.”
I take a couple more pictures, mostly of just Millie. I think I’ll save the pictures of Mel for times when I feel like it’s all too much, when we’re fighting, or when I don’t remember my purpose. I’ll keep them so I can remember that all the small stuff doesn’t matter. As long as we have each other, we’re alright.