Chapter 35

Casey

Nothing I’d read, nothing I’d heard about, and nothing that anyone had told me had prepared me for the pain of delivering a baby. I now understood why mothers used, “I gave birth to you”, as a bargaining chip for years after the fact. It was a sensation like no other, one I was not in the mood for after four hours of laboring.

I heard the word, “Push”, over and over again from doctors and nurses and Alexander, but, the more I heard it, the more I wanted to squeeze in just to rebel. I wanted to scream at them that I was pushing as hard as I could. When I’d spent all those years dreaming about having a child, I’d never pictured this exact moment.

My hair clung to my sweaty forehead as I tried to follow the doctors’ directions. I just wanted this baby out of me already. “You’re doing great, babe,” Alexander said. How could he be so calm? I glanced over at my new husband, who looked handsome as ever, still in his tuxedo from the wedding. He gave me the little motivation I needed to force another push.

“We’re almost there,” one of the nurses said to me. I zoned out for the remainder of my laboring. I took my mind to another time and place, to a beach with my mother when I was a child. I pictured us walking down the shoreline, collecting seashells in a pink bucket I’d taken with me on every trip to the beach. Mom’s smile told me everything was going to be alright.

The next thing I knew, a baby’s cries were filling the small hospital room. “You did it, babe,” Alexander said, kissing my forehead.

“Congratulations,” the doctor said. “You have a healthy, beautiful baby girl.”

They placed the baby on my stomach and I felt my heart rate quicken. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Her little nose was scrunched, and her teeny face was pure sweetness. The doctors ran some minor tests on her, but all I could do was stare at this majestic human Alexander and I had created.

“We’ll give you three a few minutes alone,” one of the nurses said. “Congratulations, again.”

As the medical personnel left the room, I felt what it was like to be a family of three for the first time. It had only been a matter of minutes, but I knew my life would never be the same. I gently ran my hand along the baby’s blanket and looked up at Alexander. “It’s been a crazy nine months, huh?” I joked.

“You can say that again,” Alexander said with a grin. “You did great, Case. She’s beautiful.”

“Well I had a damn good sperm donor,” I shot back, hoping Alexander would take it as lightly as I meant it.

“That you did,” he said.

Alexander looked at me tenderly. “Have you given any thought to what we should name her?” he asked. “I think we kind of dropped the ball on that one.”

I laughed. If only Alexander knew that I’d had some baby names in my back pocket since I was a teenager. “I was thinking Madeleine,” I said.

“Madeleine,” Alexander repeated. His lips formed a smile. “It’s perfect.”

“I thought I’d let you pick the middle name,” I said. After all, Madeleine was a product of both of us. I knew Liana hadn’t given Greg an ounce of input into their children’s names, but I wanted Alexander to have input. “I do have veto power, though, of course.”

Alexander chuckled. “Of course.”

“Any ideas?”

“I do have one,” he said. “Joanna.”

Tears trickled down my cheeks for what felt like the twentieth time in the span of twenty-four hours, but I couldn’t help it. The fact that Alexander wanted our baby’s name to honor my mother meant everything. “Madeleine Joanna Preston,” I whispered. I looked down at the tiny baby in my arms and back up at her wonderful father. “I love it.”

“I have another idea,” Alexander said.

“And what is that?” I asked. I couldn’t focus on anything except my baby girl. Madeleine. She even looked like a Madeleine, I decided.

Alexander waited for me to look back up at him before he resumed speaking. “You know that picture you have on your nightstand? The one of you and your mother?” As if he was trying to jog my memory of the picture I’d spent hours of my life staring at, Alexander walked over to our suitcase and pulled the framed photograph out of the front compartment.

I found myself breathless, surprised beyond belief. I hadn’t seen the photo of my mother since I’d moved into the house with Alexander. I looked down at myself, and again at the picture, and realized that I was my mother in that picture, cradling my baby girl and beaming from ear-to-ear. “Of course I know the picture,” I whispered. “The only picture I have left of me and my mom.”

“I thought maybe we could recreate it,” Alexander said, his hands nervously in his pockets. “You know, take one of you and Madeleine in the same pose. We can find a picture frame with two compartments and put the pictures together.”

I nodded as I tried my best to remain composed until after the picture was taken. I’d thought nothing could top the thoughtfulness of his last gesture, naming our baby after my mother, but I was wrong. As Alexander held up his phone, I looked down at my baby girl and smiled for the camera.

It had been a long two days since Madeleine had entered our lives, but I wouldn’t have traded them for the world. Alexander’s parents, still in town from our wedding, had been our first visitors at the hospital, followed by his siblings several hours later. Liana had stopped by the day after I gave birth to bring me white chocolate macadamia cookies and introduce Madeleine to Hailey and Aiden, her future best friends. The hospital staff was all wonderful, but I was ready to be home.

I sat in the backseat with Madeleine as she took her first ride in her car seat. I wasn’t sure who was more nervous—me, sitting in the back with our baby girl, or Alexander, who drove ten miles under the speed limit the whole way home. It was completely new territory for us.

The familiarity of our home greeted us as I held onto Madeleine’s carrier with both hands. We walked through the foyer into the kitchen, where several gift baskets, flower arrangements, and food platters were waiting. “What’s all this?” I asked.

Alexander shrugged “They were all here when I came to set everything up this morning,” he said.

The first of the two bouquets had a card signed from Preston Solutions. Alexander made a lame joke about how he’d probably been the one who paid for the flowers, and we moved onto the next one. The gorgeous bouquet of bright-colored roses and lilies looked oddly familiar.

I turned to Alexander. “This may sound odd, but I think this is the exact bouquet my mom used to send to everyone,” I said.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Every birthday, every holiday, every retirement, every milestone, my mom sent out a bouquet of mixed lilies and roses,” I explained. “It looked just like this.”

The card attached to the vase reaffirmed my belief. Dearest Casey, Congratulations on the birth of your beautiful baby girl. Your mother would be so proud of you, and these are the flowers she would have sent. Love, the New York Donohues.

Alexander wrapped me in a hug that he surely knew I needed after an exhausting and emotional few days. We finished going through the remaining items on the counter: a fruit basket and teddy bear from Jane, a lunch platter from Alexander’s friend Brett, and a basket of dried fruit and nuts from the clinic that told me there were no hard feelings about me leaving.

“That’s sweet of them,” I said. “Especially considering they just lost the best sperm donor they had.”

That got a chuckle out of Alexander and a cry out of Madeleine. I held her in my arms and gently rocked her until she calmed down. We made our way up the stairs as I tried not to think about everything that wasn’t ready. “Is the crib set up? I know we’ll have to get a better one down the line, but it was all I could get at the last-minute, and…” I lost my ability to speak— and my eyes widened— as I looked into the room that we’d designated as the nursery.

Everything was completely put together. A gorgeous, white crib that was a hundred times nicer than the crib I’d gotten stood against the back wall, with a gorgeous mobile hanging above it. On the wall beside it was a matching changing table with a baby monitor atop, and a dresser, the drawers open to reveal endless amounts of onesies and blankets.

“Oh my gosh,” I whispered. I put Madeleine’s carrier on the floor and stepped forward to explore the room more. “Who did this?”

Alexander could hardly contain his smile. “My family,” he said. “Our family.”

I was overwhelmed, both by the generosity of Alexander’s family and by the fact that he’d referred to them as “our” family. I walked over toward the changing table and saw that they’d also bought a Diaper Genie. In the opposite corner stood an antique-looking rocking chair. My favorite part of the whole room was above the changing table. Madeleine Joanna was spelled out in big, wooden letters covered in pink and purple paint.

“Who made those?” I asked, pointing to the letters. I looked over my shoulder to see Alexander cradling our baby in his arms.

“Emily,” he said. “As soon as I told her Madeleine’s name, she ran over to the craft store and got to work.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

After a quick diaper change, we put our sleepy baby girl into her crib for the first time. Alexander’s parents stopped by to check on us and bring us some much-needed coffee. We sat and ate lunch with them as we gave them the play-by-play of all that had happened since we’d seen them two days earlier. They seemed genuinely thrilled at the idea that they were now officially grandparents.

“Marc, come on,” Lynn said when we were done eating. She spoke in a hushed tone, clearly trying not to wake the baby. “I want to show you an adorable onesie I bought Madeleine.”

We all tiptoed up the stairs and crowded into the nursery. Lynn walked over and pulled out a mint green-colored onesie from the second drawer of the nightstand. In gold letters, it said “Grandpa’s Little Princess.” Marc would never admit it, but I was certain that he welled up with tears at the sight of it.

I walked over to the crib and looked at my sleeping angel. She was perfect. I looked around me and realized that, for the first time, I had everything I could ever want or need. I was finally part of a family.