I suppose I should just be glad that we made it to the hospital on time, but seeing my baby girl in that little box makes me sick to my stomach. Ambriel is the tiniest little thing I have ever seen, and I can’t even hold her. Thankfully, we were able to be in a room with her. I know some hospitals keep the baby and mom separate when stuff like this happens, but at this particular hospital the NICU rooms are set up with a bed for mom too.

Brandi is passed out, so I’m sitting up by myself just staring at Ambriel. Four pounds, fifteen ounces. I suppose it could be a lot worse. The doctors keep telling me that Ambriel is fine –that she’s just tiny. They did a hundred different tests pretty much immediately, and Brandi is about to lose her mind not being able to hold her yet. Ambriel has only been here for about three hours, but it’s crazy how much I love that little girl already.

There is a knock on the door, and Brandi sits upright. We’ve already had way more guests than we can handle; her entire dance company came out to see us about an hour ago to gawk at the baby. “It’s probably just a doctor coming to check on Ambriel,” I say just as the door opens.

“We have some flower deliveries,” a young man says.

Brandi smiles. “Awe, who sent flowers?”

Several different deliveries arrive so quickly that I don’t have time to look at them all. Brandi’s parents sent some; she says they’ll be by tomorrow to see their granddaughter, and I cringe slightly. They still hate me right now. One giant bouquet was sent by all of the female boxers at the gym –Laurel included. “How sweet,” Brandi says, and I wonder if she would still think it was sweet if she knew how close I had come to cheating on her not too long ago with Laurel. She glances over at the NICU. “How is she doing?” she asks.

“Sleeping,” I say; I feel like I’m having to watch my daughter inside a damn fish tank. I hate this. Damn it, I just want to hold her, but I can’t. Not yet. The doctors promised that by the end of the day, we should be able to, though, so I have that to look forward to.

A few hours go by and there is another knock on the door, and suddenly Marty and Amy pop in. Brandi sits upright, and she smiles brightly. Amy is dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, but her hair is still pinned up on her head and her makeup still done as it had been at the wedding earlier this evening. “Digging the look, Amy,” I tease slightly and give her and Marty both a hug for coming by.

“We hope we’re not intruding,” Marty says. “But we’re leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow morning, and we really wanted to see baby Trial before we left.”

“Glad to have you both,” Brandi says.

I smile and give Marty another hug. “Thanks, man.”

Marty and Amy look into the NICU, and Amy squeals slightly. “Oh, poor baby, she’s so tiny! Oh, but she’s precious, you two!”

“Well, she is my daughter,” Brandi jokes.

We all have a good laugh. A nurse comes in to prick Ambriel on her foot for another blood test, and the poor girl cries. I wish I could pick her up and coddle her until she stops. The nurse smiles. “So after I go and take care of this paperwork really quick, I’ll be back to show you two scrub down procedures so that you can hold your baby. I’m sure little Ambriel is ready to spend some time with her parents.”

Brandi and I both smile. That right there is something I am looking forward to. Marty and Amy leave to give us some space, and we tell them to have fun on their honeymoon. Marty makes me promise to send updates on how Ambriel is doing, and I promise I’ll shoot him a text every now and then. A few minutes at the hospital means something very different for a nurse versus a patient.

About half an hour goes by, and we get more guests: Tyler, Marianna, and Bobby all pop in for a visit. Bobby winds up sitting in the chair next to Brandi and talking her up some; the man has a heart of gold, and he charms the paranoid and hormonal woman into believing she’s the most beautiful and important thing to ever have grace his presence. For such a nerdy guy, he’s quite charming.

They are there chatting it up with us for close to an hour before the nurse finally comes back. Tyler, Marianna, and Bobby leave to give us some time to spend with Ambriel. The nurse shows us how to properly scrub down before we hold her, and she instructs us to only let a nurse help take Ambriel from the NICU instead of trying to do it ourselves. Then she puts the baby in Brandi’s arms, and I see Brandi’s face light up. I’m anxious as I wait my turn. Brandi holds her for about fifteen minutes before the nurse recommends letting me have a turn before Ambriel has to go back into NICU. I give the nurse a thankful smile, and then I hold my daughter for the first time. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I feel myself getting choked up. Brandi’s sobbing can at least be blamed on hormones, so I try not to lose it.

I hate it that they have to put her back into her little cage. The nurse assures me I’ll have plenty of chances to hold her and bond tomorrow. Brandi falls asleep, and I pass out on the couch. We’re up several times throughout the night to help the nurses feed the baby and change her; I take every opportunity available to me to help just so I can hold her even if it’s while wearing gloves or just reaching into the NICU to change a diaper; she’s being fed through a tube a healthy dose of pumped breastmilk or whatever that stuff is called before the actual milk comes in –technical jargon I don’t tend to remember.

The next morning, I get a whole thirty minutes to myself just holding Ambriel while Brandi sleeps, and it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced. There is a knock on the door, and another delivery guy comes in to deliver more flowers as the nurse is helping me put Ambriel back into the NICU. The noise wakes Brandi, and she rubs her eyes. “Who are the flowers from?” she asks with a loud yawn. Poor woman is exhausted.

I look at the card and cringe. “Fucking Donte.”

“Are you serious?” she asks, clearly just as annoyed as me.

“Why would that asshole send flowers?” I question.

“I have no idea,” she grunts. “Maybe he feels bad for the way we left things.”

“Sure,” I grumble and read the card.

Hope my baby girl is doing well.

“Asshole,” I say; his stepdaddy comment still bothers the hell out of me –he had told me he’d make sure my kid calls him daddy, and damn it that about made me want to kill him. I slam the entire vase of flowers and card into the trash.

“Don’t worry about him,” Brandi says.

“I can’t help it,” I say and attempt to shake it off. I smile at her. “I love you, Brandi,” the words slip out of my mouth; I’m not sure how much I mean them, but I suppose it’s hard not to feel something for a woman you just watched deliver your child.

She smiles back. “I love you too, Jonathan.”