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“Yeah. Yes. Of course.” The excitement in his voice is evident. He looks over my leg, his hand coming to his mouth to cover an emotional gasp. “That’s amazing.” He blindly reaches for my arm. “She’s got hair. Allie, I can see dark hair.”
“Allie,” Hudson says. “Here comes another contraction. I need you to push hard on this one to get her head out.
“I’ll try.”
Asher squeezes the leg he’s holding. “You can do this, babe. Just a few more pushes.”
I flash him an annoyed stare. “A few more and then a whole other baby.”
Hudson chuckles, which I appreciate more than he knows. He wouldn’t be laughing if he were the least bit worried. His levity makes me breathe a little easier and push a little harder.
“There she is. Now stop pushing. Suction. Okay, great. Now give me another push. That’s it. There’s a shoulder. Gentle now, give me one more.”
I push once more, then the pressure is gone and I hear my little girl cry. I rise up on my elbows, desperate to see her. “How does she look? Is she okay?”
“You did great, Allie,” Hudson says. “She looks healthy, and a bit larger than I anticipated. Good job. Asher? Want to cut the cord?”
Asher looks over at Bug. “You do it. I’ll do the next one.”
“Seriously?” She looks terrified. “No. What if I screw up?”
“You can’t screw up,” Hudson says. “We have the cord clamped and you cut right in between.” He points. “Here.”
Hesitantly, she steps forward and takes the surgical scissors, eyes filled with wonder as she separates me from her sister—my daughter.Oh my god. I have a daughter.
“What does she look like?” I ask Asher.
“I don’t really know. The doctor is examining her and you’ve got a death grip on my hand.”
I release him. “Sorry. Go.”
The nurse shows Asher where he can walk, steering him clear of the trays of instruments that thankfully haven’t been needed.
“Jesus, Allie,” he says from across the room. “She’s beautiful.”
“One minute Apgar is nine,” someone says.
I strain to sit upright. “That’s good, right?”
“That’sgreat,” Hudson says, still between my legs but taking a break.
Only a few moments go by before Asher brings our swaddled daughter to me and places her in my arms. I can barely see her perfect little face through my tears. Maybe it’s the blurred vision, but I swear she looks so much like Christopher it takes my breath away. “Hey, little one. I’m your… mom.” I choke out the last word because it’s one I never thought I’d say again.
A nurse comes over and puts something on my wrist. “This is an ID band that matches hers. Your husband will wear one too.”
Asher squeezes my shoulder, neither of us bothering to correct her.
I lean down and kiss the baby’s cheek. I touch her nose. I unwrap her a bit and count her fingers. “Are you sure she’s good?”
The neonatologist appears by my side, “She’s presenting very healthy. We’ll take her back for all the usual tests, but sofar, she’s doing as well as a full-term baby, all five pounds twelve ounces of her.”
I look up at Asher. “We have a daughter.”
“We sure as hell do.”
“Bug,” I say. “Do you want to touch her?”
She nods, eyes wide as she reaches out to her little sister. She touches the baby’s head on top of her little blue and pink beanie. Then her cheek. Then her hand. “Her fingers are so tiny.” She cocks her head to the side, studying her new sibling. “Hmmm… now that I see her, I’m thinking… Phyllis.” Asher scoffs. “Elektra? Paisley?” But then a tear drops from her eye as she wipes the other. “Hi, Chrissy. I’m your big sister.” She looks at Asher. “I think I already love her. Is that even possible?”