Page 55 of Living for Truth (Broken Shelves #2)

Hannah

T he next morning, after the least restful night of sleep I’ve ever had due to the nurses checking on me every couple of hours, Aly, Axel, and Iris shuffle into the room with bags in tow.

The nurses kept the twins in the NICU last night to monitor them, but the girls didn’t seem to need any extra help or attention, so they said we can keep them in here tonight if we want to. I missed them last night, as crazy as that sounds.

“Are you okay, Hannah?” Aly asks as soon as she sees me, making me want to cry.

I’ve cried a lot in the last twenty-four hours. It still feels surreal to have not only one, but two babies that Morgan and I made together here with us, safe and sound.

I’m holding Violet, feeding her a bottle, while Morgan feeds Poppy. I didn’t want the anxiety of guessing how much they would be eating while breastfeeding, and bottle feeding will be easier for us when I go back to work, so I opted to not breastfeed.

“I’m feeling very tired, but I’m okay, Aly. Do you want to hold one of your sisters?”

Aly nods her head enthusiastically, and Morgan directs her to use the hand sanitizer before sitting on the couch next to him.

He finishes burping Poppy and teaches Aly how to cradle her head and hold her steady.

“This is Poppy, and the other one is Violet,” Morgan says quietly.

“She’s so tiny,” Aly whispers in awe.

I finish burping Violet and see a sheen of tears in Axel’s eyes. “What do you think, Papa? You want to hold your granddaughter?”

Axel clears his throat. “I won’t say no to that.” He sanitizes his hands and takes the tiny, bundled up human.

“Hi there, Violet. I’m your Papa. You and your sister already have everyone wrapped around your fingers,” Axel coos, swaying back and forth.

Iris sits over by Aly, who’s still staring wide-eyed down at her sister. “Oh look, Aly, Poppy’s opening her eyes. She wants to see you.”

“Hi, Poppy. I’m your big sister, Aly. I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you or Violet.” She looks at Morgan. “Can I kiss her?”

“Sure, but only on the top of her head. We don’t want anyone to kiss her face because she can get sick very easily.”

Aly places the gentlest kiss on her head, then hands her over to Iris who happily takes Poppy and coos to her about how pretty she and her sister are.

My eyes meet Morgan’s from across the room, and we smile at each other. I know the road ahead with recovery is going to be long and difficult, but I can’t help but think it’ll be easier with these people by my side.

Four days after giving birth, the doctors cleared us to go home, so we packed the car seats into the back of the RAV. Aly sat between them, giving us updates on how the girls were doing and every move they made.

Iris and Morgan’s sisters went over to stock our fridge and clean our house yesterday so we could just relax when we got home, which made me cry again.

All of the Fowler crew has stopped by to meet the babies and help out around the house, each of them taking turns spending the night at Morgan’s request so I can rest and heal.

The first night we got home, Iris slept over. I tried to fight her on it, saying I was capable of doing the nighttime feedings, but Iris tutted at me and told me to stop being so stubborn and to accept the help. Not an easy feat when you’re used to doing most things on your own.

After two weeks of being fussed over, I insisted I was fine to handle the nighttime routine, so everyone started slowly backing away and letting me take over. I appreciate that they didn’t fight me.

It’s been an adjustment trying to get a new routine going with the girls. They sleep in a pack ’n play in our bedroom on Morgan’s side, and he insists on waking up when they do. More often than not, we’re both awake cradling a baby and giving them bottles until they settle back to sleep.

There’s no one I’d rather lose sleep with.

Our days are filled with never-ending diaper changes, feedings, and rocking them to sleep.

Violet has remained a very calm baby, only crying when she’s super hungry or when she got her shots.

Poppy, on the other hand, is a very outspoken girl.

If she’s upset, we will know about it immediately, and it takes a bit more to get her settled.

Bean is extremely curious about the babies but refuses to get too close to them. If they’re crying and Morgan is holding one of them, he meows angrily at Morgan until they quiet. When they’re crying and I’m holding them, he rubs his head on my legs like he’s giving me moral support.

Bagel is the silent protector of the twins. He sits next to them when we have them on their blankets on the floor and curls up next to them when they’re crying. He doesn't seem bothered by the extra noise or baby items scattered around the house.

I’m going in for my six-week postpartum appointment today, and Morgan is staying home alone with the twins.

I’m not nervous to leave them, I have complete trust in Morgan to handle it on his own, but I’m sad to leave the twins.

I’m worried I’ll miss big moments if I’m not with them all the time, even though there won’t be any big milestones for a while.

I go through the routine of checking in at Dr. Badar’s office, and before long she’s knocking on the door and coming in to greet me with a smile.

“Hello, Hannah. No babies today?”

“Morgan wanted some alone time with them.”

“It sounds like he’s a very involved father.”

“He is. He’s the best.”

“I’m glad to hear it. How has recovery been?”

“Good. I’m feeling much better than I was at my two-week appointment. The stitches have dissolved, and my scar no longer itches, so I assume that’s a good thing.”

“That is a very good thing. If you don’t mind, I’d like to look at the scar just to make sure everything looks good, then we can talk about birth control options.”

I nod, laying back on the table and lifting my sweater so Dr. Badar can examine the scar on my pelvis. She confirms the stitches have dissolved, and it’s healing well, then asks if I’ve thought about going on birth control.

I explain Morgan’s already got an appointment set with a urologist for a vasectomy, but I would like to be on birth control pills until the procedure is completed.

I’m sent home with a prescription for birth control, instructions to still take it easy with lifting, but I’m cleared for sex and light exercise.

When I get home, I find Morgan shirtless, with the twins sleeping on his broad chest covered in a cozy blanket.

The sight makes me want to cry tears of joy and jump his bones.

“Hey, Butterfly, how was your appointment?” he asks in a hushed whisper.

“It was good. Dr. Badar said my scar has healed nicely, and I can start lightly exercising.” I bite my lip. “She also cleared me for sex.”

Morgan’s eyes meet mine as a slow grin takes over his face. “Good thing my mom and dad agreed to sleep over so we can go on a date.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“We won’t be going anywhere except to dinner and then coming back here. We could both use a break, and it’s only one night. We’ll still be here with them, just not in the same room. Now, go get ready.” The command in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and pulses at the spot between my hips.

“Thank you.” I give him a chaste kiss and run upstairs.

I don’t know how long I have, so I rush to get ready. I curl my hair and put on makeup for the first time in over six weeks. I brush on a lip stain, then put on a proper bra for the first time since having the twins and look at myself in the mirror.

Pregnancy changed my body. It added more stretch marks, more extra skin, and I haven’t lost all of the weight I gained. A large part of me worries Morgan won’t find me as attractive.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that Morgan has seen me in every stage of pregnancy and he still finds me attractive.

He’s seen my body at every stage of postpartum recovery, helped me shower when I could barely stand, and helped me change when I couldn’t bend over.

He hasn’t given me any indication he doesn't like the way my body looks.

I’m about to step into the closet to get dressed when Morgan comes in, typing on his phone. When he looks up and catches my reflection in the mirror he drops his phone to the floor.

“God damn, Hannah,” he groans.

“You don’t think my body looks bad?” I whisper.

Morgan stands behind me, his hands tracing up and down my sides, gently running over the cotton underwear at my hips.

“This body? The one that grew not one, but two babies? The one that houses the heart of the woman I love so much I ache? A body so fucking sexy I’m about to come in my fucking pants?

” He punctuates his point with a slow grind of his cock to my ass.

I don’t answer. I can’t answer as his fingers gently pinch my nipple through the fabric of the bra.

“No, Butterfly. I don’t think your body looks bad.

I think it’s perfect. I think if we didn’t have reservations, I’d toss you on the bed and spend the entire night showing you just how much I love your body.

” Morgan places a gentle kiss to the sensitive spot behind my ear.

“Now get dressed before I do just that. We have to leave in fifteen minutes.”

I pick out a pair of black leggings and a forest green sweater dress, since I know Morgan and our date won’t just be a quick run through the drive thru.

When I come out of the closet, Morgan’s changed into black chinos and a forest green cable knit sweater. I roll my eyes at his need to match me, but I will admit I secretly love it.

Iris and Axel are sitting on the couch talking softly.

My anxiety flares at the thought of leaving the girls again so soon, but I know Iris and Axel will take good care of them. It’s not like this is their first time with twins.

Aly’s on the couch talking to Violet and Poppy about her day, both of the babies wide-eyed and listening intently to their big sister.

“Alright, kids, don’t you worry about a single thing, okay? I have experience with twins, so I know what I’m doing,” Iris says, pulling me into a hug. “You two just enjoy yourselves.”

“Thank you so much, Iris.”

She gives me a wink, then Morgan and I are off on our first date night as parents.