Rocked
Early Christmas morning, I woke up to the pitter-patter of little feet and gasps and whispers of excitement from the girls as they marveled at all the presents under the tree. A few moments later, a pair of tiny fists knocked on the door with a sense of urgency. “Mama, wake up. Santa came down the chimney while we were sleeping,” Mari said.
“He brought lots of presents for everyone, even George.” Ruslana cheered. “And the reindeer ate their treats!”
Vladimir beamed when he heard his daughters’ voices filled with excitement and anticipation. I wanted to surprise them that Papa had come home, but I didn’t want to shock the life out of them. I hopped back into my pajamas, tossed Vladimir his pants, and opened the door a crack. “Good morning, sweeties!” I bent down and rounded them up for a group hug. “I have a surprise for you, and it is a really, really huge surprise. I want you to prepare yourselves before I give it to you.”
“Is it in there?” Ruslana peeked around me to see into the room.
“Yes. I want you to take a deep breath and—”
“Is it morning already?” Vladimir called from our bed. “Did Santa bring me any presents?”
The look on Mari and Ruslana’s faces when they heard Vladimir’s voice was the most endearing moment I had ever witnessed. All the stress and heartache our daughters had experienced in their lifetime had finally come to an end—Papa was home, and our family was together at last.
I opened the door and Vladimir welcomed the girls with open arms. They ran to their papa, and he scooped them up in his embrace. He was shirtless and his muscles rippled underneath his tattooed skin as the girls clung to him like two adorable little koala bears hugging a tree. Seeing our children wrapped up in their papa’s arms was one of the most beautiful and awe inspiring highlights of my life. I retrieved my camera from the desk to capture the epic moment.
Mari and Ruslana were talking at the same time, telling him all about America, how they loved their school, and how they helped put George’s room together. Vladimir carried them into the family room as they chatted away and pointed to all the gifts. Then Mari steered Papa toward his office and asked him if he wanted to see George’s room.
“The baby’s room is in my office?”
“Yes,” the girls said in unison.
Vladimir turned, met my gaze, and arched his eyebrow. “This was your idea?”
I nodded behind the camera. “Hope you like elephants.” I took a few more steps then stopped when I got a painful cramp. I set down the camera and put my hands on my back to rub out the building pressure. I had felt cramping since last night, but it was mild compared to what I was experiencing now. I winced as the pain intensified then I realized what was happening—Oh, God. I’m having contractions.
“What’s wrong?” Still holding the girls, Vladimir rushed to my side. Mari’s and Ruslana’s eyes widened and their elation tanked when they saw me bent over in pain.
“Are you hurt, Mama?” Mari asked.
“No, sweetie, I’m just in a little pain. I need to get to the hospital.” I forced a smile. “It’s time. The baby’s coming.”
Footsteps thundered up the stairs that led to Dmitri’s room in the lower level. “Dobroye utro. Merry Christmas, girls.” Dmitri jogged into the family room then froze as if he’d seen a ghost. He was awestruck as he regarded Vladimir standing in the living room with the girls in his arms. His initial reaction was disbelief, but then his expression quickly turned to elation. Dmitri shook his head, stunned to see the man he admired was alive and well. He rushed over to Vladimir and embraced him and the girls in a tear-jerker of a blended family hug. Dmitri’s eyes glistened as Vladimir praised him for following orders and doing his job of staying with me and keeping us safe.
“I need you to do one more thing for me, Dmitri,” Vladimir said.
“Anything, boss.” Dmitri lifted his chin and reverted to loyal employee mode.
“Stay with the girls and call the family. Let them know I’m taking Carter to the hospital. My wife is ready to give birth to our son.”
***
After enduring labor for nearly a day, our baby was born, weighing seven pounds and eleven ounces, at 4:07 a.m. on December 26th. Vladimir was with me the entire time, and when George made his entrance, seeing his perfect little body was the most gratifying moment of my life. I had suffered so much trauma and heartache throughout my pregnancy, but George was strong and resilient and stayed with me through it all.
Vladimir held George and rocked him as I recovered in our labor and delivery suite. A nurse came in and brought a birth certificate for us to fill out. We had decided on his first name while we were in London but never had a chance to talk about his middle name. I wanted it to be special and significant, not something random. I went through all the names of the important men in my life, but I didn’t want to choose one and leave the others out.
George Vladimir, George Pasha, George Boris, George Dmitri, George Yuri…
Nothing seemed to stick. “Any ideas for a middle name?”
Vladimir nodded. “I came up with the perfect name during my stay in Moscow. Our son will share the name of the person who protected him time and time again, the fearless fighter who risked life and limb to ensure his safety, and his guardian angel who never once let any harm come to him.” Vladimir touched the baby’s cheek to get his attention. “Ready to hear your name, son?”
The baby cooed in his papa’s arms, and his eyes were wide open as he acclimated to his new environment.
“Your first name comes from Saint George, your last name comes from me, and your middle name comes from the strongest and bravest woman on earth. Welcome to the world, George Carter Ivanov.”
George blinked his steely blue eyes as if giving his approval.
My heart warmed when Vladimir spoke our baby’s name. I had gone over the list of all the people who contributed to our survival but had never considered naming him after me.
“Perfect. I love it.” I placed my hand over my heart and smiled at my guys.
Vladimir picked up George’s little hand and gave him a handshake, making his name official. Our family joined us in our spacious suite and took turns holding the baby, welcoming Vladimir home, and congratulating me on giving birth to a healthy boy. The positive energy of our loved ones touched me on a level that stretched beyond the family ties that bound us together. A year ago, Vladimir and I never believed we would see our families again, and our desire to reunite with our loved ones seemed like an impossible dream.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as Vladimir placed our tiny baby in Boris’s thick arms and introduced George to his grandpa. Boris cradled his grandson, and his dark eyes glistened as he regarded him as a living miracle. Mari, Ruslana, and my sister circled around Boris and doted on George, while Anya and Babushka smothered Vladimir with love and affection. My parents shared hugs and kisses with Pasha and Dmitri, and then made their way around the room to greet the rest of the family. While the pleasantries and well-wishes flowed in Russian and English, Boris brought George back to me and placed him in my arms.
As I held my son and gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, our family gathered around my bedside. A rush of love and gratitude washed over me as I admired the joyful expressions of our loved ones. Vladimir mirrored my smile, wrapped the baby and me in his loving embrace, and praised me in Russian for giving him everything he could ever want in a lifetime. After all the bloodshed and the sacrifices we made to keep our family together, our dreams had finally turned into reality. This is the forever life we were fighting for.