It was a little over six hours that we arrived here.
--
I look over my shoulder to see my husband approaching. He looks *very* nice. It's our second anniversary. June tenth. So, it's kind of warm in this old apartment, but not uncomfortable. Which is a change; everything's seemed to have missed my standards by a mile for the last nine months.
I almost laugh aloud. Its amazing what pregnancy does to a woman.
John's been terrific, though. He's helped me through everything. He made sure I was comfortable every night when we went to bed, and always tended to my late night wants for ice cream and pizza. Somehow, he still wore a smile when he came back at two o'clock in the morning. No matter how early he had to work, he still smiled like he always had with that container of ice cream in his hand. And I knew he had looked everywhere to find a store that still carried Moose Tracks at one in the morning.
And he even surprised me with the most beautiful accessories for the baby. The crib, the changing table, the whole deal. It was that adorable Noah's Ark theme we'd picked out months before. It took some coaxing, but I came around in the end.
Everything seemed so perfect, so I started to get excited. It led to being so anxious all the time. So that when my due date came and passed, I became almost annoyed. John would laugh at me, knowing how excited I was for the baby's arrival.
He'd talk to it every night, too. It kind of surprised me. Not the fact that John was doing it, but the fact that men did that at all. I thought that was the kind of thing that was a myth or something.
But it wasn't.
Not with him. Everything's different with him. I knew it wold be great with him. Even though I'd never had anything like that. I'd put myself in dead-end relationships without noticing. I assumed that life wasn't supposed to be this good. Richard, in a way, had done that to me.
But, I never let myself think of Richard anymore. There's no reason to.
John was going to be a great father. He already cared about the baby so much. Talking about everything in the world to it. He'd lie peacefully close to my stomach and just talk. Whether he was whispering exhaustedly, or giggling as he did so, you could tell he cared. And he'd been doing so from when I first found out.
He was so special to me. We're going to be a family. Me and "Carter." When we used to be so close friends at County, when all we needed was a friendship. Now that I think about it, that's what brought us both together. The fact that we both felt we needed to be completely independent, without anyone's help. Without realizing it, we'd been almost relying on the other as soon as we became friends.
We saved each other.
--
Six hours. It had been long, and it had been rough. But when everything was over, I couldn't remember how tired I was.
Tired? Yeah, right. Sure, I was waking up at two-thirty, but I thought it was just another pickle or hamburger run. Here, this was the actual thing. She'd told me we were going to have a baby. The one we'd been waiting for for nine months.
Some might describe those months as long, but they were some of the best in my life. Truthfully. We'd already been so close, but now there was another unifying force between us. It was something we giggled freely about. We were two kids again.
When we decided we didn't want to know whether it was a boy or a girl, Abby had been eating ice cream. It was midnight, so I had been the one to retrieve it. I would stay up and talk to her, talk the night through, until she had had her share with the treat. Then we'd both go to bed.
But, when she was feasting this one particular night, she'd begun to laugh so hard. I remember I was reaching into the carton with my spoon and pulling it out to my mouth as I asked her what she was laughing about.
Through that fit of giggles she managed, "Dooley."
I began to laugh a little too, still unsure of what in the world she was talking about. It was the sound of the word she'd mentioned and the smile tearing from ear to ear on her face that had me in my own small stitches.
"Dooley," she repeated.
I shrugged, "What's that?"
"That," she said, pointing at her stomach. "That's Dooley."
She'd been two months pregnant, and said she'd heard it somewhere. Most likely a dream, she had added.
So, we talked to it as Dooley. God knows we weren't planning on naming our son or daughter Dooley, and we never did find out exactly where the name came from, but that baby was our Dooley for the time being.
Poor kid would probably get stuck with a terrible nickname. But, it would be a cute story to tell, wouldn't it?
I'd told that baby about work, about his or her mother, the weather, everything. I know it made Abby happy. When I looked up at her, when she thought I wasn't, I could see her smile. It made me feel good to know that she appreciated this. And I did, too. I wasn't doing it *just* to make her happy. I liked it, too.
I couldn't wait to have this baby. It was going to be a huge part of my life.
That baby and Abby were my everything.
--
"Okay, Abigail, you ready?"
She shakes her head and bites her lip, staring up at the ceiling.
"She likes to be called 'Abby,'" I mention, telling the nurse and making sure that Abby has everything she needs. This is it. Those final moments.
I wonder if that pillow behind her head is working out okay for her. Does it need to be fluffed or anything?
"Alright, Abby," the nurse says, taking a nod from the doctor. "Are you ready to push, honey?"
Abby doesn't respond, so I come even closer to her. I realize that her pillow's fine. She just needs my hand to hold.
"Abby," I whisper, taking her hand gently. She looks up at me with hopeful eyes and swallows. "Sweetheart, I know you can do this. I know it, I know it." I repeat this to her again and again. Her head is glinting in the early light. The sun was just rising. Perfect time of day.
She's doing wonderfully. She nods, never taking her eyes from mine as she breathes out. I pull back the hair that's been matted against her face. She smiles wearily, but gratefully, and nods again. I think I'm helping. I keep one hand on the back of her neck and hold her other hand in mine. I watch her eyes as she stares at me, hoping for my words to guide her.
I love her.
The doctor instructs her to push, finally. Abby nods again, her head falling towards mine. I nod in sync with her. I wish I could do more for her.
The doctor counts to ten, and I whisper each number in her ear. I see her squeezing her eyes shut. She holds her breath for those ten seconds. Her grip strengthens on my hand, and I pat it adoringly.
The doctor tells us that our baby's almost here. My heart beats faster that it already is and my stomach gives me a weird feeling. I don't know what to do. It's kind of like a freezing feeling.
Abby refreshes that hold on my hand again. I turn back to her, nodding only more. I tell her I love her and that she's almost done. Abby nods, and I swear there was a small smile hiding on her lips. I laugh a little at the happiness I feel all of a sudden. I know she can't laugh, in the midst of what's going on, so I smile a little more.
I talk to her gently, in a sweet tone.
Our first child is almost here.
--
The pain is unbearable. I told myself "no drugs," and I'm almost regretting that decision.
But not really.
I can barely think. John's voice, whispering in my ear, and that pain is all I can register. His hand is holding mine and his other is on the back of my neck. It's running kindly up and down, relieving that sweat behind me. I turn toward him for one second and smile weakly. He sees this and smiles back, but I turn my head back.
This is more difficult that I thought.
But the doctor says that baby's almost here. My heart skips and there's a knot in my stomach. This baby that I've been incubating for the last nine months, that piece of John and I together is finally arriving.
For a minute, I feel a crash of every feeling imaginable. It all swirls and blurs into one blinding white light.
Then I hear a cry.
My head, I am aware of, has fallen back against the pillow. I blink, barely, and look up to see Carter looking to the doctor. There was an amazing grin set on his face. I think I see a shine of tears in his eyes. I really think I do.
The doctor tells me it's a girl. I start to laugh as John looks at me. He laughs and shakes my hands excitedly. We're both laughing now, and he cups my face in his hands. I place my hands over his slightly and feel myself start to cry.
Our daughter is still crying. All four of our hands together come to my lap. We clasp the others and look over to where the doctor is. The nurse finally brings us our baby.
Our baby girl.
--
I want to cry, and I already am.
Abby's sniffling quietly. I wonder if she even notices she's crying.
The nurse hands the baby to Abby. She's wrapped tightly in a soft, pink blanket. Her little face is so pink.
She's so beautiful.
I feel my heart melt at the sight of her. This baby is amazing. There's the faintest trace of brunette locks on her head. I become aware of myself smiling uncontrollably as I let this child grasp my finger. She yawns and I see Abby start to coo at her daughter.
The baby, despite the procedure her mother just went through, is asleep. I look at Abby. Her eyes are red, tear-stained, and tired. But her smile still lights her whole face up. I look at her and smile. She smiles back.
I kiss her softly for a second. She smiles against my lips and with our heads pressed together, we stare at that beautiful little girl.
--
Its all over now. I have a daughter with this man standing next to me. He pulls up a chair and like me is unable to tear his eyes from this new addition. She's the beginning of our family. She's pulling us even closer together.
John and I are still sitting so close together. He's sitting on the corner of the bed, with his finger linked with our daughter's. My bottom lip quivers, but I don't cry. I can only watch him, how he loves his daughter. Our daughter.
In my arms is this beautiful little girl. She's such a little baby. So cute. Her skin is fairly pink, and her nose is so tiny. I momentarily put a finger over it, to see if my fingertip is indeed larger than it. It is.
--
The room is dimmed. At seven thirty-four in the morning, our daughter was born. Its nearly eight at night, and the drapes are drawn. The only light is the lamp in the corner.
Abby's sleeping in her bed. I don't blame her. She's dozing and barely snoring, but in a cute, adorable way. Next to the bed, the baby's bassinet sits. I walk over to it, standing from my chair close by. The small infant, 6 pounds, four ounces, is wrapped in a large pink bundle. I smile, something I've been accustomed to lately, and reach for her.
She stirs, but barely in my arms. I cuddle her closer to my chest. I never want to let go of her. She whimpers in her sleep and turns toward me.
I love my daughter.
I lean down and kiss her gently on her forehead. She sighs and stretches her little legs from the blanket. She pouts in her sleep with two tiny lips.
