Bonus Epilogue
Late August, three months later
Rowan
I never thought this day would arrive.
The last week and a half had been indescribable, as if a meteor had crashed right smack in the middle of our lives. A meteor we’d named Lila Rose. Rose had been my dear grandmother’s name.
Our girl had come early—way early. She was born four weeks and two days before her due date. To say nothing had gone as planned or hoped for would be spot on.
I’d been put on bed rest and hospitalized due to placental issues, because why would my body do anything the easy way?
Eight days after I was admitted, Lila Rose was born via c-section, but that wasn’t the end of the drama.
Our six-pound darling girl showed signs of an infection shortly after birth and was rushed off to the NICU for testing and ultimately antibiotics before I was even out of recovery.
For the past nine days, Lila had stayed at the hospital and received daily meds.
Once my four-day post-c-section stay was up, the hospital had managed to find me an unused room to stay in when I wasn’t with my baby.
I’d never been so grateful, because the thought of leaving that hospital without my newborn in my arms was unfathomable.
The gamut of emotions Chance and I had been through…
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it, let alone process everything.
The moments right after her birth had been full of elation, wonder, and the most overpowering love I’ve ever experienced, both for my daughter and my husband.
When her Apgar scores had been high in spite of her early birth, we’d been overcome with gratitude, relief, and so much pride for our strong little girl.
And then less than an hour later, a nurse had noticed Lila looked a little “off.” I knew now how much that angel of a nurse had kept her alarm from us, not wanting to scare us prematurely.
I’d been out of it from the c-section and all the emotions, and Chance had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours at that point, so we’d naively believed it was normal for Lila to have additional testing.
Later, Barb, the nurse, had told us she’d acted more on gut instinct than anything. We’d come to realize Barb’s gut instinct had possibly saved our baby’s life.
We’d been trying to swallow that reality for the past nine days while also attempting to not dwell too hard on it as our outcome was a happy one. Our bundle of joy and stress appeared to be healthy now in spite of both her early birth and her infection.
I’d never cried as much as I had the past nine days, a tear-filled mix of fear, anguish, relief, gratitude, and so much joy.
Chance had been by my side nearly nonstop those first four days, with me pushing him out the door late every night to drive home and get a few hours’ sleep.
He’d ferried Sam in each evening for a couple hours to visit her baby sister, after staying with me most of the day.
The depth of his love had never been more evident.
At the same time, I worried for him. He was burning the candle at both ends, being a rock for me, Sam, and Lila, and struggling with the same range of feelings I was.
Add on top of that holding the household together, seeing to Sam’s needs, and driving back and forth… It was too much.
Once I was officially released and Lila was out of danger, remaining hospitalized just to get her meds and be monitored closely, Chance and I had decided he’d return to work until she was released.
That way his paternity leave could start when we were all home, when we’d no longer have the support of the nursing staff.
That day was today.
Lila Rose was finally on her way home with us.
In addition to a painful c-section scar on my lower abdomen, I had countless new scars forming in my heart and mind as I recovered from our ordeal.
I’d never longed for home and security so much in my life.
Each of the nurses on duty when Lila was released hugged us long and hard. We were one of their success stories, their happy outcomes. Gratitude didn’t seem like a big enough word for what my heart was bursting with.
Then Chance secured Lila in her car seat carrier, and the three of us were on our way. Sam would meet us at home, as she had a regular babysitting job for the summer and would be done in the next half hour.
We walked out the hospital door, my arm looped with Chance’s, Lila in her carrier in his other arm.
The early September sun beating down was the most surreal feeling, as I hadn’t ventured out of the building for nearly three weeks.
There’d been days when I didn’t care if the sun even existed as long as my baby would be okay.
I breathed in the warm air, overcome. Unable to find words. Chance seemed to be in the same state, as we made our way toward his SUV in silence, moving as one unit against a world that felt…uncertain.
“Let’s see if we can figure this out,” he said once we had the back door open.
“You don’t know how to secure her?” I asked, panic surging up in me because I sure as hell didn’t have a clue.
“Let’s just say they’ve changed a bit in fourteen years. We’ll get it though, won’t we, Lila Rose?” His tone was gentle and loving, in complete contrast to mine.
“Did you practice?” I asked, climbing into the backseat on the opposite side to see if I could help.
“I did. We just set her right about here”—there was a click—“and there we go. She’s locked in.”
I exhaled, trying to calm myself, then tested it.
I hadn’t had a chance to practice the car seat because when I’d been admitted to the hospital, we hadn’t bought one yet.
The truth was, we’d been completely unprepared for bed rest and an early birth.
We hadn’t even decorated the nursery yet.
We’d planned to do it all that upcoming weekend when Dr. Shah had sent me to the hospital.
In hindsight, I wondered what the heck I’d been thinking to not expect a wrinkle to come up with my pregnancy.
That was how my body rolled. I should’ve been ready for anything, prepared far in advance, but nope.
I’d had a hard time deciding on colors and theme for the nursery and, it turned out, had waited too long.
“Do you want to ride back here?” Chance asked me.
I nodded as I fastened my seat belt, not taking my eyes from this little miracle.
Chance bent down and kissed Lila’s forehead as she slumbered away. Then he stretched over her and kissed me as well, cradling my cheek for a moment and smiling, as if to say, We made it.
I soaked in that sensation of partnership, of coming through challenging times together, stronger for it but a little wary, as if another layer of naiveté had been peeled from me.
As he backed out of the parking space and drove us away from the hospital, I caressed Lila’s tiny fist while she slept, needing the contact and the reassurance that she was okay.
Once Chance had turned on the highway heading south out of Nashville, Lila opened her eyes and looked up at me.
Her blue-eyed gaze was beautiful and trusting and made my throat swell with love.
I offered my pinky finger, and she clasped her hand around it as I’d been hoping.
Something about that instinctual movement brought me joy.
This was her first car ride, but she didn’t seem to notice. She locked her eyes on me, wholly unbothered about whether her seat was secured sufficiently, one hundred percent trusting that these two people would keep her safe and cared for.
Out of nowhere, that irrational pulse of panic that had been my on-and-off companion for the past two and a half weeks reared its ugly head.
“Chance, what if I can’t do this?”
“Do what?” He met my gaze in the rearview, brows raised, looking calm and collected.
“Any of it.”
Lila turned her head to one side then the other. Rooting, I’d been told. Looking for food.
“I think she’s hungry,” I said, my distress growing.
I couldn’t feed her while we were driving. We were probably still forty-five minutes from home.
“It’s okay,” Chance said. “If we have to stop, we’ll stop. How long ago did you feed her?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t know what time it was, what time I’d fed her, even though the nurse had made a point of reminding me about when the baby would likely be hungry again based on the schedule we’d had these past few days.
All of that had been sucked out of my head.
“We can’t just pull over on a highway. It’s dangerous. ”
“Rowan.” Chance’s stern tone caught my attention. I met his gaze again, took comfort in his calmness, his soothing tone as he said, “We’ll figure it out if we need to. She’s not upset yet. It’s early. She might fall back asleep from the motion of the car. Relax, sweetheart. We’ve got this.”
I tried to breathe through the anxiety. Told myself he was right. Calmed down slightly when another thought occurred to me.
“When are we going to fix up the nursery? We need so many things. We’re not ready, Chance.”
“The crib is ready. We have a glider. A full stock of diapers and onesies and spit cloths. The necessities. The rest is superficial. Everything will be taken care of. It’s okay, Rowan.”
“How can they send us home with this little being? I don’t know what I’m doing!” I was on a panic roll now, all reason out the window. It was all just feelings, doubts, fears running my brain.
“How much do you love that little being?” he asked, still calm as could be.
I narrowed my eyes at him. How could he even ask that? “To the stars and back. Unquantifiable,” I said, indignation creeping into my voice.
“Which means we’ll figure out every little thing as it comes up. Because that’s who we are now. What we do. We exist, in part, for our little girl.”
Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached back to me with the other, wiggling it to get me to grasp it. I did, taking some comfort from his touch, his strength.
“I love you,” he said. “You’re amazing. We’ll figure it out.”