Epilogue
Mason
Eight months later
The past eight months had flown by. The wedding had been simple and elegant, and I loved staring at the picture of the two of us that Lara had placed on the baby’s dresser in the nursery. She said she wanted our child to know we were always there, always watching.
The woman had been a machine when it came to getting everything organized and ready to bring our baby into the world. We had both agreed we didn’t want to know the baby’s gender. We wanted to be surprised.
She had spent hours and hours picking just the right furnishings for the baby. The paint colors had been another huge chore. We had tested at least twenty different combinations before she’d finally settled on a light shade of yellow called Sun Shower. I had made the mistake of calling it pale yellow. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“I love this chair,” I said, slowly rocking back and forth. “What’s this color again?” I asked, teasing her.
With a hand on her hip, she glared at me. “Adriatic mist. You need to know this in case we need to replace something.”
I laughed. “Sweetie, I would never dare pick out anything for this nursery without your approval. I have learned green is not green and yellow is never just yellow. I know more about colors than I ever thought I would.”
“Soft colors are supposed to be calming. Green,” she said, with her lip curled as if the word alone was vile, “is green and ugly. Adriatic mist is soothing.”
“Got it.”
She rubbed her stomach.
“You need to sit down. The nursery is done. It’s been done. I don’t think anyone would have noticed that spot.”
“I did,” she shot back.
“You got a little something there.” I pointed to her cheek.
She wiped the area with the heel of her hand. “Did I get it?”
I chuckled. “Nope. You smeared it. Everyone’s going to know what color the nursery is.”
“Do you like it?” she asked, standing back, one hand resting on her belly and the other holding the paintbrush.
“I do, and the baby will too. It’s like being in a ray of sunshine. The yellow blends well with the light green. I’m glad you did the picking of the colors. I would have created something that would have given our child nightmares.”
She giggled. “I think you’re right. Light and airy is the way to go. The white curtains and trim make it look so bright. After the baby is born, I may have to rethink the colors in our room. I like bold, but this pastel look is really nice, too.”
“You just painted our room!” I protested.
She shrugged. “That’s the good thing about painting. You can change the color as often as you change your mind.”
I groaned, thinking about the amount of work that went into changing the color of the walls. It had taken us several days last time. We’d had to sleep in the living room while the paint project was underway. I didn’t want to do that again.
She put the brush down and rubbed her back. I had seen her do that several times in the past hour.
“Are you okay?” I asked with concern.
“Yes. Just a little stitch in my back.”
“I’ll rub it. Let me put this stuff away. You go sit and relax with your feet up and I’ll be right there.”
She nodded and meandered out of the nursery. I put the lid back on the small can of open paint. The paint was some organic, safe stuff she had found at a local store. It was safe for her to use while pregnant and the baby could lick the walls all it wanted without getting sick. I hoped it didn’t, but I was happy to know my child wouldn’t develop some horrible illness if he or she decided to dine on the walls.
“Mason!” Lara’s voice was filled with alarm, spurring me to drop everything and race down the hall.
I made it into the dining room, skidding to a halt when I saw her. Lara was standing next to the table, her legs slightly spread apart, a look of horror on her face. I looked around the room, expecting to see a man wielding a knife or a huge mouse. I didn’t see either.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, fear making my voice strained.
She looked down at her legs. Her pink maternity pants had a wet stain trailing down the inside of her thighs. My first thought was she had peed her pants. It took a second for my brain to recognize what I was seeing.
“Oh,” I mumbled for lack of a better word.
She looked up at me, fear in her eyes. “Did my water just break?”
“Yes, I would say it did,” I said, completely calm. “We’re having a baby.”
“Mason, no! It’s too early,” she cried out. “I can’t have this baby. Not yet!”
I shrugged a shoulder, pretending it was no big deal. “It’s not too early. He or she will be fine. You’re thirty-six weeks. It’s fine. The baby’s fine,” I reiterated.
“But the doctor said I had to go until at least thirty-eight weeks,” she argued.
“Well, that’s the goal, but this isn’t too early. Babies are born early all the time. Much earlier than this in fact,” I said, inserting confident authority I didn’t feel into my voice.
“We have to get to the hospital. Maybe they can stop it.”
I knew that ship had sailed but didn’t want to alarm her.
“Relax. I’ll grab the bag. Don’t move,” I said, rushing down the hallway, very thankful she had insisted on getting everything ready a month ago.
My stomach was in my throat as I prayed all was well. The hospital had an excellent NICU. If the baby had any problems, he or she would be taken care of, I assured myself. It would all be okay.
By the time we got to the hospital, she was in active labor. I fought back my own nervousness to keep her calm. Once we were all checked in and she was set up in a birthing room, she visibly relaxed. The doctor had assured us this was not so terrible.
“We’re going to meet our baby!” She grinned.
“Yes, we are. I called Kali and Brian. They’re on their way.”
Her face twisted in a painful grimace. I helped her breathe through another contraction.
“Are you sure this is okay?” she asked me again.
“The doctor said he or she will be fine. They have the NICU on standby. The baby may need a little extra help the first few days, but it’s fine. Don’t worry. You focus on delivering and let the baby doctor worry about the baby,” I soothed her.
She nodded. “Oh no,” she murmured as another contraction pulled her into it’s painful grip.
Once she rode it out, I looked into those beautiful brown eyes. “You’re close. It’s going to be real soon now.”
“I think it would be better if it was now. I’m not sure I’m up for this.” She groaned.
“I’m here. You scream, squeeze, or do whatever you need to. I’m here,” I said, dabbing a cool cloth over her forehead.
Inside, my stomach felt loose and watery. I wished I could take away the pain for her, but all I could do was be her support. I felt so helpless.
After several more contractions, the doctor came in, did a check, and declared it was time to start pushing.
Lara was an absolute trooper. I admired her for her strength and resolve. I hadn’t thought it possible to love her any more than I had on our wedding day, but seeing her go through this to bring our child into the world multiplied every feeling I had.
“There you go,” the doctor encouraged. “One more. One more big one, Lara!”
She grabbed my hand and squeezed so tightly, I thought it would break. There was a flurry of commotion, and the next thing I knew, the doctor was holding a baby in his arms.
“It’s a girl!”
Lara and I both cried. I went through the process of cutting the cord with shaking hands. I had a daughter. Lara and I had made a baby girl. It was truly a miracle. I bent to kiss Lara’s head and stroked the hair from her sweat-slicked brow.
“You’re amazing.”
She smiled. “Where is she?”
“Give the doctors a second. They’re checking her out. She’ll be in your arms in a second,” I promised her.
The baby’s soft cries erupted into screams, and everyone cheered. I breathed a sigh of relief. Our girl’s lungs were obviously in perfect working order.
“Here you go,” a nurse said, placing the baby against Lara’s chest.
Lara cried as she held our daughter. Her fingers traced over every inch of bare skin as she cuddled the baby against her bare chest.
“She’s beautiful,” I muttered. “Just like her mama.”
The nurse came back over. “I’m going to get her all cleaned up and we’ll bring her back to you.”
The doctor congratulated us and declared our daughter fit as a fiddle.
“Thank god,” I said, releasing the breath it seemed I’d been holding since I first saw Lara standing there in the dining room.
There was a flurry of activity. Lara demanded I get over there and take pictures of the baby’s first diaper. I dutifully snapped at least a hundred pictures of the process. When the room finally cleared out and our baby was placed against Lara’s breast again, I climbed into the bed beside my family.
“Are we agreed on the name?” I asked softly, not wanting to disturb the baby.
“I think so,” Lara said with a smile. Alieah Michelle Chambers, welcome to the world.”
There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” I said in a low voice.
Kali pushed the door open and waddled in with Brian right behind her.
Within seconds, Kali was crying. It was something Brian and I had become very used to. Between Lara and Kali, one of them was always crying over something.
“She’s so pretty!” Kali exclaimed loudly.
“Shh,” I said, but it was too late.
Alieah voiced her own opinion about her quiet sanctuary being disturbed and let out a wail that would have made any new parent cry.
Brian grinned. “I guess that means the lungs are okay?”
I chuckled. “Yep. She’s perfectly complete.”
“That is so great,” Brian said with obvious relief.
“I want this one out,” Kali grumbled, rubbing her massive baby bump. “Seriously, how is it that I get pregnant before you and you have your baby before me? It’s not fair.”
“My boy is too comfortable in there. He wants to wait until he’s good and ready,” Brian said with pride.
“Your boy is going to get an eviction notice. It’s time.”
I felt sorry for Kali. Her due date had been a few days ago. She was not pleased to be overdue and constantly grumbled about it.
“Sex,” Lara muttered. “The doctor said sex gets things going.”
Kali rolled her eyes. “Yes, sex is exactly what I want to do when I am as big as a house.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Brian offered helpfully.
Kali slapped his chest and approached the bed. “Can I hold her?”
“Of course,” Lara said, gently handing her the baby.
Alieah started crying again, protesting the loss of her mother’s warm body.
It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.
***
END OF THE SECOND STORY