36. Epilogue
36
Epilogue
The jungle-themed murals of monkeys swinging from trees, ducks and elephants in a river, birds perched on branches, and a lion reigning as king of the scene are coming together beautifully on the teal-painted walls that Pearl is putting the finishing touches on. I crane my neck to admire her progress and gauge how she’s feeling.
“Did I mention today how incredibly proud I am of you?” I ask, watching her work with admiration. She has been a huge help with decorating the nursery and has done a fantastic job.
“Only about ten times,” she replies with a wide grin, though her expression quickly changes when another contraction hits. The discomfort seems to be intensifying with each passing hour.
“I’m sorry, love. Why don’t we head to the hospital and see how everything’s going?” I reach out gently to help her up .
“If you keep apologizing after every contraction, my love, you have a long day—and maybe night—ahead of you,” she says with a half-smile. Each time a contraction grips her, her expression sours, and she holds her breath, as though something is prodding her until she releases it. It’s difficult for me to witness her in that state.
“And no, I don’t want to go to the hospital too early. That’s a common mindset for first-time moms. I want to let labor progress naturally at home.”
She had explained to me multiple times that hospitals and stressful environments can sometimes slow down the progress of labor. However, as I watch her become increasingly uncomfortable throughout the day, I find myself struggling to support her decision to wait it out at home.
Neither of us have experienced this before, and throughout the entire pregnancy, I’ve battled relentless anxiety over the possibility of something terrible happening to her. Without Jesus, these past nine months would have been plagued with nightly panic attacks, haunted by the darkest fears of losing my sweet wife, similar to how my dad lost my mom.
I was still working on memorizing my Bible verses, but there was a song that really helped me with Psalm 34:4: ‘I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears .’
It was a comforting reminder that fear isn’t from God and that only He can deliver me from it. Pearl also loved reassuring me with this whenever I struggled.
“Okay, but will you tell me if things get out of hand?” I ask, searching her eyes .
“I promise.” Her voice is steady as she looks into my eyes, her hand gently resting on her rounded belly like she wasn’t in major pain just a few minutes ago. I walk toward her, squat to press a kiss to her forehead, my hand caressing the gentle curve that now cradles a new life—a life created by God, the fruit of our love.
I knew marrying the love of my life soon after saying “I love you” was the craziest and best decision I ever made. But I hadn’t anticipated the abundance of blessings that have poured down on us since we exchanged vows.
All I know for certain is that I don’t deserve this life, yet I believe that God hasn’t withheld any good thing from us, including the heartache that has made expecting our rainbow baby even sweeter and miraculous.
“Help me up?” she asks. “I want to send the finished product to Charlie and Robs.”
Instead of simply offering her my arm and making her do the work of getting up, I hold both of her arms and lift her. As she stands up, there’s a sudden splashing sound, and fluid begins to trickle down her leg.
“We’re going to be parents!” she shouts, seemingly unfazed by the gush of water.
I’m thrown into confusion, my mind racing as I try to recall our labor checklist. “Okay, where is my labor list again?” I mutter, frantically digging my phone out of my pocket. “Let me grab the bags, start the car to warm it, and get you inside. Well, not necessarily in that order—I’ll start the car first!” I blurt out, my voice betraying my escalating panic. My hands shake as I fumble with the keys .
“Relax,” Pearl replies calmly, her feet still planted on the ground. “Everyone at church told me first labors can be pretty long, so the baby probably won’t be here for a while. Let me freshen up, change clothes, and then we can head to the hospital.”
“Okay, freshening up sounds good. Do you need any help?” I ask, trying to embody the calm I had hoped to maintain on this day.
“No, you can warm up the car and text Dad, Aunt Mel, and the girls. I’ll be quick.”
“Buddy, I got something for you,” I say softly, cradling the smallest human I’ve ever seen in my arms and bringing him to my lap. I turn his sleeping face to the first gift I want him to have—the tiniest pair of skates. “You’re going to love hockey.”
I glance over at Pearl, who looks beyond exhausted, a little lifeless even, but at the same time, her eyes sparkle with joy like never before. It’s been seven hours since her water broke, and after what felt like an Olympic marathon, Micah is finally here. I thought I knew thrill from hockey, but today surpasses anything I’ve ever experienced.
Suddenly, the room bursts open. Aunt Melissa, Dad, Robyn, and Charlie all enter, having waited outside anxiously. They gush over Micah and comment on how he’s a mini-me. The split second we saw the color of his eyes immediately after birth revealed they aren’t forest green like Pearl’s—they are light blue.
“Can we now know his name?” Robyn asks eagerly, taking the baby from Aunt Melissa. Pearl insisted on keeping the name between us until someone guessed it, and no one ever did.
“This is Micah Xavier Ortiz,” Pearl announces proudly.
“You named him after me?” Dad beams.
I chose his middle name.
“Yes, I want him to feel connected to his grandpa.” I pat his shoulder.
Dad has truly changed. Even after forgiving him, I still had doubts about his ability to stay on the right path. However, during the two years he’s been out of jail, he showed a remarkable transformation. He has truly surrendered his life to Jesus Christ and his change gradually patched the wounds in my heart, one by one.
“Sweet P, how does it feel to have your own flesh and blood?” I ask, turning to my sweet wife. Her eyes are fixed on Micah, as if she’s still processing the transition from having him all to herself in her womb to now sharing him with all of us.
“I feel like God’s favorite right now. I married a handsome, godly man, and now I have a baby that looks exactly like him. I’ve never been happier,” she replies, her voice tired yet accompanied by a serene smile.
Her words compel me to fall to my knees in humble gratitude to God.
Thank you Jesus they both made it.
The End