Epilogue
“You push!” I yell at the nurse, my Spanish sounding garbled and as new as it is when she keeps yelling at me that I have to woman up and shove a hundred-pound baby out of my junk.
It hurts bad. And by bad I mean that I would rather have someone sawing my leg off without numbing it!
Santiago paces beside me, alternately holding my hand and letting go when I try to punch him for daring to do this to me.
“Why can’t you have the babies?” I yell, grabbing his shirt in a death grip when the next contraction hits and I feel my lower half convulse in excruciating pain.
I need drugs. I need drugs. I can’t do this without drugs, I think wildly, begging God to help me because I feel as if my pelvis and vagina are being ripped in two.
“I happen to have a dick, Isabella. That would just end up messy.” He jokes, making me laugh hysterically right in the middle of pushing.
The nurse and doctor both scowl, letting him know they aren’t impressed but I feel as if he’s said just the right thing. Mainly because the thought of his cock exploding right about now makes me super happy!
“You have to push hard on this next one, Isabella!”
“Shut up, bitch! You think I can’t feel it?” I yell, making a note to call Wanda about cursing this chick’s vagina for daring to lecture me when I am dying.
The next contraction is the strongest by far and I bear down brutally, my face going hot and red when I hold my breath and give it all I got. I feel incredible pain followed by a whoosh of the most relief I have ever had in my entire life.
My sob of gratitude is followed by two things; the baby’s cry, which makes my heart bust right open and then pure horror when I see Santiago peering down between my legs, his snow white face a precursor to the floor dive he does a second later.
The doctor hands me the baby and I am crying as I take him, looking down at his red little face so filled with wrinkles my first horror filled thought is my kid looks like Nona!
Then I just feel love. Deep and abiding love that fills me up and makes every drop of pain worth it. Santiago is eventually revived by the cursed nurse and he stumbles our way with a bashful smile to look down at us.
He leans in, kisses the baby’s head - with the blood and gore still present, ew - and turns to me with a smile so big he looks breath-taking.
“He is…”
“He looks like Nona.” I whine, giggling when he chuckles and shakes his head.
Yeah, we still have a love, hate, love, more hate relationship going but I know she loves me more than hates me, so we’re cool. Most days. FYI, she almost died from the Epsom salts, so I so won’t be doing that again.
I almost had a heart attack when she had to go to the hospital. I confessed to Santiago and he was a little mad until I told him why I did it. That Facebook still will haunt me forever. Fran has it on her wall. Every day.
He laughed his ass off then, made me swear not to try and kill her and then told Nona she deserved it. Then he pissed himself because I confessed it wasn’t coffee on my pants, that I peed myself and well…
I won’t do Epsom salts again. Just Lax it. I can compromise.
“He is perfect, Bella.” He breathes, kissing me with tears in his eyes.
A little while later, after we’re both cleaned up and I’m raging about the fucking yard of sanitary pad I have wedging between my bloody legs, Gabby and Nona both come in followed by Emma and a smiling Aunt Sue.
“This is Luis Jorje Alvarez,” I say proudly, relinquishing my son to Nona and the rest of the cooing bunch and snuggling Gabby who climbs up onto my bed.
Santiago and I struggled with a name for months until Gabby shyly asked if we could give him her previous name so she could be a part of the pregnancy.
I kinda dig Luis, it’s old school and hip at the same time. Jorje not so much but Nona threatened to spy on me more if I didn’t use the old family name.
So Jorje it is.
“He is very small, Mama.”
“Yes he is,” I say, kissing her cheek and watching Nona’s black heart crack when the baby yawns, mewling like a kitten.
Santiago just smiles at it all and groans when I hear a familiar set of stomping clicks right before the door bangs open.
“Where’s my God kid? Oh Jesus. He looks like the old bag. I hope he grows into that face, Jamaica, or this kid is gonna be butt ugly,” Fran yells, smiling at Luis softly while Nona gasps and mutters something nasty at Fran.
They leave soon, the nurse muttering about the noise level and then it’s just me and Santiago. He sits in the chair, holding Luis, his face so soft and open I feel my chest go tight as I smile.
“He is a gift, yes? To make up for what we lost before.”
I couldn’t agree more, feeling the once brutal sting of the first baby fade with every breath my son takes.
We’ve had a bumpy road together. Hard. Sad. Tragic. It’s all there in the past but right now I’m looking at my future. My son.
My husband.
The only man I have ever loved and ever will.
He looks back at me and smiles, mouthing his love and for the first time in my life I feel…
Adored.