Page 94 of Full Out Fiend

I can’t help but think back to the moment I saw the first set of double lines on the pregnancy test all those months ago. The thought that hit first, the one that filled me with dread, washow am I going to do this alone?

But I’m not alone. Not anymore. I’ll never have to be alone again.

The greatest gift this man has given me is himself.

“I trust you,” I tell him.

“And I love you,” he replies.

It’s the last private words we share before two nurses come in and usher him into the hall so they can prep me for surgery. It’s the words that galvanize me as they wheel me down the hall into surgery.

Chapter 52

Fielding

She’shere.

Elowyn Serena Haas.

My little Winnie. My perfect girl.

She’s tiny. And feisty. She’s been screaming nonstop since they took her off Daphne’s chest and placed her in this incubator. My little girl is a fighter, and I fucking love it. I’ve never fallen in love this fast or this hard. And that’s saying something, coming from me.

I knew life would change once she arrived. I just never expected it to happen so quickly.

Within minutes of her birth, she was whisked away to the NICU. Daphne asked me to go with her, but I waited until she was stitched up and on her way to recovery.

Now my heart’s splitting in two—I’m desperate to be with both my girls. I watch with a keen eye as the NICU nurses chart and record her stats.

She weighs five pounds, nine ounces, which is pretty damn impressive for being four weeks early. She’s eighteen inches long and makes these little gurgled grunts each time she breathes, which is an indication of fluid in her lungs. There’s not much they can do for that while she’s being observed, but, based on her oxygen saturation levels, I won’t be surprised if she ends up needing CPAP.

The nurses keep asking me to move as they get things set up. I’m happy to oblige, but I refuse to go far. They should probably get used to the hovering—I’m about to redefine what it means to be a helicopter parent.

I snap a few more pictures, searching for a decent angle without the glare of the heated incubator distracting from the shot. I also strategically keep the IV on Winnie’s hand out of the pictures. I understand the need from a medical perspective, but I don’t want Daphne to worry about that right now.

I send off pictures to my brother and Maddie, then send a separate text to Daphne’s phone so she’ll have them to look at as soon as she’s out of recovery.

I get another idea then.

“Say hi to Mommy, little angel,” I whisper, recording our daughter as she fusses and carries on.

I shouldn’t be surprised she’s giving the nurses hell. I hold back a chuckle as her tiny fist displaces the pulse ox they’re trying to secure around her wrist.

“She’s perfect, Daphne. Our daughter’s perfect. She’s beautiful, like her mommy, and she’s ornery, like her dad. Look at this little angel we made.”

After I’ve ended the video, I stash my phone. I swear I can’t even blink without feeling like I’m going to miss out on something crucial. I don’t want to take my eyes off her. I don’t ever want to leave her side.

Chapter 53

Daphne

We’refinallysettledinour room—without our little girl. I won’t get to see her for another three hours because I have to wait for the catheter to come out before they’ll let me go down to the NICU.

I haven’t stopped crying since recovery. I honestly wish I would run out of tears—if only because my face physically hurts from being puffy and swollen.

Fielding won’t stop peppering me with kisses and telling me how amazing I am.

I don’t feel amazing. I feel like a failure.