Page 41 of Hampton Holiday Collective
Our New Year’s babies may be identical twins, but they have separate birthdays. Even different birthyears.
Miraculously, they’ve required almost no medical interventions so far. Fielding has cautioned that things could change—they have to prove they can put on weight and maintain their body temperatures, and there’s something about jaundice and a hearing test they still have to pass, but so far, so good.
I glare at my brother but whisper since Griffin is asleep in my arms.
“We’re not changing anyone’s name,” I reply sternly.
Maddie and I spent months coming up with the boys’ names. Once we finally settled on Griffin Everhett and Ledger Fielding, we knew we got it right.
“I’m not proposing a name change right away,” he insists. “But we knew within weeks—actually, maybe it was only days—that Wyatt took after me. What if that one has more of me or Maddie in him than you’re prepared for?” He nods his head toward Griffin, and my brand-new son grunts at the same time. I frantically check him over to make sure he’s still breathing.
“He’s fine,” Fielding chuckles, glancing up at one of the screens above our heads. “They’re monitoring his heart rate, respiratory rate, and oxygen saturation. One of the alarms would go off if something was wrong.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief, although his assurance doesn’t totally erase my concern. Is this what parenthood is like? A relentless stream of reminders that something could go wrong at any second? Maybe Fielding can convince them to let us take all these monitors with us when the boys come home.
“Oh shit,” Fielding murmurs, holding Ledger to his chest as he slides his phone out of his pocket.
I resist the urge to ask him to use two hands—one, because he’d make fun of me, and two, because he’s completely at ease balancing a barely five-pound baby against his body as he swipes up and unlocks his phone.
“I have to go in about an hour. I promised Winnie we’d make waffles together this morning, so I need to be home before she wakes up.”
I look at the clock on the wall—5:17 a.m.
“Do you ever sleep?” I ask through a yawn.
“I’ll take a nap before work this afternoon,” he insists, fighting back his own yawn in response to mine. “I can’t disappoint my little angel.
“I’m getting the impression that this parenthood gig takes exhaustion to a whole new level.”
I blow out a long breath, grateful that Maddie’s resting back in her room.
“Bro. You haveno idea.”
A few tense seconds tick by before I find the courage to speak my truth. “I feel overwhelmingly underprepared for this.”
A beat passes, then another. When I find the courage to look up and meet his gaze, there’s nothing but sincerity shining in my brother’s eyes.
“Are you kidding me? You’ve been perfecting your stern brunch daddy vibe for years. You’ve got this.”
Ledger grunts in Fielding’s arms, his little head lifting as his mouth gapes open, then closed. He settles back into my brother’s chest a moment later.
“That’s rooting,” Fielding explains. “He’s going to want to eat, and soon. If you can feed him at the first signs of hunger like that, you’ll be way better off. Hit the nurse call button, and they’ll bring in a bottle. I can show you how to feed and burp him before I have to go.”
I do as he says, then turn back to him, marveling at how he just knows things. “How do you keep it all straight? Remember everything—and keep them alive each day?”
He presses his lips in a thin line, no doubt trying not to laugh at me. He’s lucky he’s holding one of my babies. Otherwise, I’d reach over and smack him upside the head.
“It’s not going to make sense until you’re doing it,” he offers. “And most days, you won’t be sure you’re getting it right. Look at me over Thanksgiving. I’m a fucking pediatrician, and I didn’t realize my kid was legit sick.”
“Pretty sure you called him scrooge all day.”
Fielding grimaces, then offers Ledger a pacifier when he roots again. “Not my finest moment,” he admits. “That’s the thing about parenthood, though. You’re gonna fuck up as much as—if not more than—you’re gonna get it right. But you can’t dwell on it. Just commit to showing up for your kids every day, and the hardest part is done.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not easy, Dem. But it’s not impossible. You can do this. I mean, look at what you made. These little guys are perfect.”
He beams at me with a baby in my arms, genuine pride radiating from him.