February 11th
It’s time.
Damon
It’s just after midnight. I think back to the last midnight kiss we shared on New Year’s Eve after winning our bowl game.
Just like that game, tonight feels very back and forth. Ebb and flow. Contractions. Break. Contractions. Break. Checking to see how much she’s dilated.
Most of our family has stopped by, not come into the room, but been in the waiting room to talk to me, offer support.
And a few of them won’t leave. Ainsley’s mom, my mom, and Jennifer have stayed the whole time. They’re excited and nervous.
And they really want to be here when their first grandbaby is born.
Which is what I want too.
Ainsley got the epidural not long after we made our decision, and we can see the contractions on the tocodynamometer, which everyone here calls TOCO for short.
It’s cool that we can tell how long they last and how often they occur.
Ainsley can tell when they are happening, but what she feels is more pressure than pain.
And thankfully, her blood pressure, while still high, isn’t spiking with the contractions, and the baby’s heart rate has been all good.
What is surprising is that she’s been at this for over nine hours now and she’s still only dilated to a four. Crazy to think I was worried about getting here before the baby was born.
Now, we’ve just been waiting.
We watched a couple of movies.
Played cards.
Until the nurse came in and told us we should try to get some sleep.
Which I never even thought of. I thought we needed to stay up.
When our nurse stops by again, about an hour later, she says, “I’m glad she’s asleep. You should be too.”
Which, I’m sorry, no way I can do that. I’m still obsessively watching the monitors and praying.
“I’ve tried.”
“Well then, just close your eyes and rest a little. Once your baby is born, sleep will be harder to come by. But you can be sure she’ll be born today.”
She checks the monitors, makes a few notations on her tablet, and then leaves again.
I look at my phone.
Today is February the eleventh. My little sister Weston’s birthday. She turns four today.
And while Summer’s due date was the twenty-second, which is a double angel number, eleven is both an angel number and my jersey number.
Which gives me a little extra hope that everything and everyone that I love in this room will be okay. That we’ll get through it all. Be happy and healthy.
Ainsley wakes up about an hour later, looking a little refreshed, but she says, “I feel different. There’s, like, a different pressure. A lot of pressure. Like, maybe I need to push.”
That causes me to sit up straight.
I hold her hand and watch as she has a contraction on the monitor. “That was a long one,” I say when it’s over.
“Go get the nurse,” she says sternly. “I think I need to push. I think it’s time, Damon.”
I run out of the room, trying to find her. But then I remember there is a call button in the room and go back in there, only to find the nurse already there.
“Sorry,” Ainsley says. “I hit the call button, and she came right in.”
“All right,” the nurse says. “Let’s see what’s going on down here.”
I go up and stand by Ainsley and hold her hand.
“Oh wow. You’re dilated to a ten, and the baby is crowning, which means I can see her head.” She turns, hits the call button, and says, “I need delivery now. And get her doctor here.”
Seconds later, more people flood into the room.
And the room transforms. The dim lights are now operating-room bright. The foot of the bed is taken off. The baby warmer is turned on. Equipment is checked.
While I’m feeling frantic, they don’t look it. They are moving quickly and effectively.
But there’s still an urgency to what they are doing. Surgical gowns come out. Gloves are snapping on. Machines continue to beep.
It’s controlled chaos.
Ainsley grabs my hand as the nurse says, “Don’t push. Not yet. Just hang on. We’ll be ready by the next contraction.”
“There’s a lot of people in here,” Ainsley says. “If all these people are going to see a baby come out of me, we might as well invite our moms in. Go get them. Hurry.”
This shocks me, but I rush out of the room, slide across the floor, and come to a halt outside the waiting room.
Dani is the first to notice me.
“She’s about to start pushing. It’s been so slow, and now it is going so fast. Ainsley says there are so many people in the room already, so if you want to be in there, come now.”
My mom gets tears in her eyes. And I know how much it means to her.
We have a bit of a rocky past, but now everything is good.
And I’m so happy she’s here to share in this moment.
Jennifer too. She’s so sweet. So happy. And so kind to us.
She’s going to be so excited. My sister—well, we’re going to hope it doesn’t freak her out so much that she won’t want kids of her own.
I rush back down the hall with them in hot pursuit.
I get in the room, introduce our guests.
The nurse says, “Stand here.”
And they do.
“All right, Ainsley, another contraction is coming. I want you to bear down as hard as you can when I say go.”
“Is my doctor not here?” Ainsley says, her eyes getting big in panic.
“Of course I am,” her doctor says, strolling into the room like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Sounds like it’s time to have a baby.”
She nods, and then the nurse says, “Go!”
The doctor says, “That’s good. Really bear down. That’s it.”
And I can tell she’s pushing hard. Her body is curled up, shoulders shrugged.
“Yes, perfect. That’s the head.”
And I’m thinking, The head—already?
Ainsley grins at me. And I know she knows she can do this.
Tears fill my eyes because I’m so incredibly proud of her.
“Okay, now hold for a second,” the doctor says. “We’re going to get the cord out of the way. Okay, we’re ready. Let’s do another big push.”
And just like that, the shoulders and body are delivered.
The baby cries immediately as the doctor lifts our baby girl up onto Ainsley’s chest while the room keeps moving around us.
I stand there in stunned silence. In awe.
Summer Elise Diamond is in the house.
Ainsley is looking down at her, eyes full of love. A nurse quickly dries the baby off and covers her with warm blankets.
Her umbilical cord is clamped, and someone says to me, “Dad, would you like to cut the cord?”
Dad. She called me Dad.
“Yeah, I would,” I say. And I do.
While a nurse is assessing Summer, checking her breathing and probably other things, the doctor is still working on Ainsley.
I’m not even sure what all is going on around us. My focus is on Ainsley and our baby.
The nurse says, “She’s doing great,” and puts a little knitted pink cap on her head.
It’s cute, but I’m pretty sure my mom probably has a designer one in her bag just for this occasion.
Once the nurse is done checking out Summer, my mom, sister, and Jennifer move up right behind me, eyes full of happy tears, and start cooing about how beautiful she is.
My butterfly.
Ainsley
We managed to get a little sleep. I got to nurse baby Summer, and I’m just overjoyed with happiness and so thankful that she’s in our lives now.
My mom came back first thing this morning and hasn’t left. Hayes drops in to bring us all some pastries sent by Chef Paul—and obviously to see my mom.
They are so cute together and so excited about getting married late this summer—in Switzerland.
After he leaves, Dani and Chase show up, and I can just tell they are dreaming of their own future babies as they take turns holding Summer.
Honestly, I don’t mind them holding her, but I’m happy when she starts to fuss and they have to give her back to me so I can nurse her.
I wasn’t sure about nursing, but I have to admit, I’m loving the closeness I feel when I am. This tiny little life, who has been safely inside me for so long, is now out in the very bright and busy real world.
Chase brings Damon a cigar as congratulations. Something about it being from his dad’s special box. And Dani has an adorably soft pink blanket that she actually crocheted herself.
While they are still sitting and talking to us, Jennifer and Damon’s dad come in with the girls.
Damon rushes over and picks up Weston and says, “Happy birthday, Westie!”
She looks adorable, wearing a crown with a number four on it and a dress with handprinted flowers all over it.
Easton has a similar dress on and a crown that says three. Even though she won’t turn that age for another month.
After we all sing “Happy Birthday,” the girls want to see their baby niece. They get a whole bunch of instructions from Jennifer, are set up on the bed, and are allowed to touch Summer’s little toes, which they love.
Weston says, “I just love my baby Summer,” which is so cute.
They get down, and then Damon’s dad says, “We need to let Auntie Ainsley and baby Summer rest, so what do you say about going to get some ice cream?”
The girls scream happily about that.
Damon, Dani, and Chase go with them. And my mom says she’s going to get some lunch as well.
And then it’s just me and Jennifer.
She takes a seat in the chair and talks softly while I nurse Summer.
Once she falls asleep, I say, “Do you want to hold her?”
“I’d love to,” she says, standing up and snuggling her up, making sure her blanket is wrapped around her. Then she sits back down and stares at her in wonder.
Having Jennifer Edwards holding my baby seems surreal.
She’s played so many roles in Hollywood—from the reluctant hero who saves her world from evil in my favorite Sector movies, to the messed up one in a heartwarming story about sisterhood and family and everything in between.
I idolized her back then because of her roles, but it’s the person she truly is that makes her worth looking up to.
She’s become friends with her husband’s ex-wife. She cares so much for everyone and seems to move through life with an abundance of love in her heart. She literally radiates it.
But as she sits, holding Summer in her arms and nuzzling her soft hair, tears start to stream down her face. And I’m not sure why.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.