26. Delphine #2
The next few hours were a blur of pain and effort and Heath’s face hovering over me, his expression a mixture of terror and awe.
He held my hand through every contraction, let me squeeze his fingers hard enough to leave bruises, wiped my forehead with cool cloths and told me over and over that I was amazing, that I was so strong, that he loved me more than he had ever loved anything.
“I can’t do this,” I gasped at one point, the pain overwhelming. “It’s too much. I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He kissed my forehead. “You can do anything. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”
“I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying. You’re giving life. There’s a difference.”
“Don’t try to be poetic right now. I’ll hurt you.”
He laughed, and despite everything, I found myself laughing too.
When it was finally time to push, Heath stood beside me, one arm around my shoulders, his other hand gripping mine. My mother was on my other side, murmuring encouragement. My father had wisely retreated to the waiting room, claiming he needed to pace somewhere with more space.
“One more push,” the midwife said. “One more, and you’ll meet your baby.”
I bore down with everything I had. Every ounce of strength, every bit of determination, every moment of the past year channeled into this final effort.
And then, suddenly, a cry.
The most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
“Congratulations,” the midwife said, smiling. “You have a daughter.”
A daughter. We had a daughter.
They laid her on my chest, still wet and warm from being inside me. She was tiny and red and absolutely furious, her fists waving in the air, her mouth open in a wail of protest at being forced out into the cold bright world.
I had never seen anything more perfect.
“Hi,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Hi, baby girl. I’m your mom.”
Heath was crying too. Actual tears pouring down his cheeks, his composure completely shattered. He reached out and touched her tiny hand, and she wrapped her fingers around his and held on.
“She’s so small,” he said, his voice cracking. “She’s so perfect.”
“She is.”
“We made her, Del. We actually made her.”
I looked up at him. He had broken my heart and put it back together, fought for me and nearly died for me, and now he was standing in a hospital room in France with tears running down his cheeks because our daughter had grabbed his finger.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you too.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then kissed our daughter’s tiny head. “Both of you. So much. More than I ever thought I could love anything.”
My mother was crying too, happy tears that she kept wiping away with the back of her hand. “She’s beautiful,” she kept saying. “She’s absolutely beautiful.”
“What are you going to name her?” the midwife asked.
I looked at Heath. We had discussed names for months, going back and forth, never quite settling on anything. But now, looking at this tiny person who had somehow grown inside me, the answer felt obvious.
“Sophie,” I said. “Sophie Celeste Fairchild.”
My mother made a sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob.
“After you,” I explained, though she had clearly already understood. “Because you’re the strongest woman I know. Because you taught me how to love and how to fight and how to never give up on the things that matter.”
“Oh, Delphine.” She squeezed my hand, tears streaming down her face. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me.”
Heath was nodding, his eyes still fixed on our daughter’s face. “Sophie Celeste. It’s perfect.”
The nurse came to take Sophie for her first checkup, promising to bring her right back. Heath followed her with his eyes, clearly reluctant to let her out of his sight even for a moment.
“Go with her,” I said. “Make sure she’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’m not going anywhere.”
He kissed me again, soft and sweet, and then hurried after the nurse like a man on a mission.
My mother stayed with me while he was gone, stroking my hair, telling me how proud she was, how happy. My father came back in, looking emotional in a way I had rarely seen from him.
“You did good, kiddo,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m proud of you. For everything. Not just this, but... all of it. The way you handled this year. The way you fought for your marriage. The way you built a new life.”
I felt tears prick at my eyes. My father was not a man who expressed emotion easily, and these simple words meant more than any grand declaration could have.
“I love you,” I said.
“Love you too, Delly. Always have. Always will.”
Heath returned with Sophie a few minutes later, cradling her in his arms with exaggerated care. He looked terrified of holding her wrong, terrified of squeezing too tight, terrified of doing anything that might harm this precious creature he had helped create.
“She’s perfect,” he announced. “Ten fingers, ten toes, healthy lungs. The doctor says she’s absolutely perfect.”
“Of course she is. She’s ours.”
He settled onto the bed beside me, and I leaned into him, Sophie nestled between us. My parents quietly excused themselves, promising to return later with food and champagne.
And then it was just the three of us. Our new family.
“We did it,” Heath said softly, his voice full of wonder. “We actually did it.”
“We did.”
“After everything. All the pain, all the mistakes, all the time we wasted. We made it here.”
“We made it here.”
Sophie yawned, her tiny mouth stretching wide, and then settled deeper into my arms, her eyes closing.
“She’s sleeping,” Heath whispered.
“She had a big day. Being born is exhausting.”
He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For not giving up on me. For her. For this.” He gestured at Sophie, at me, at the room around us, at the life we had built together. “For all of it.”
“You earned it. Every bit of it.”
“I’m going to keep earning it. Every day. For both of you. For the rest of my life.”
I turned my head and kissed him, soft and sweet, tasting tears from both of us.
“I know you will,” I said.
We sat there in the quiet room, the afternoon light golden through the windows, our daughter sleeping peacefully between us. Outside, the French countryside stretched toward the horizon, green and beautiful and full of possibility.
“Hey, Del?”
“Hmm?”
“We’re a family now. A real family.”
I looked down at Sophie’s tiny face, then up at Heath’s tear streaked one. I thought about my parents in the waiting room, about the home we had built in this beautiful country, about everything we had survived to get here.
“Yeah,” I said, my heart full to bursting. “We really are.”