Page 51 of Tiny Precious Secrets (The Brothers of Calloway Creek The Montanas #4)

“Not long. I can see the top of Twin A’s head,” Hudson says. He motions to Asher. “Want to take a look?”

“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’s great ,” 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 so far, 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?”

I reach out and put my hand on Bug’s arm, encouraging her to look at me. When she does, I say, “You better believe it is,” hoping she gets my meaning.

The new tear welling in her eye says she does. We share one more brief moment of… something , then she turns back to Christina, emotions swelling my heart as Bug continues to love on her.

Hudson clears his throat. “I hate to break up the party, but we need to do an ultrasound to see what’s going on with Twin B.”

Someone rolls over the ultrasound machine as Asher gently takes Christina from me.

Hudson glides the transducer over my belly, though I can’t feel it. “Mmm,” he mumbles.

My body stiffens. “What does that mean?”

“He’s turned. He’s in the transverse position.” He moves the wand around some more. “That means he’s sideways. Could be he’s taking advantage of all that extra space.”

He’s trying to make a joke, but I know what this could mean. I close my eyes. “Do you have to do a C-section?”

“Not necessarily. I’m going to try and turn him.” He hands the transducer off to the nurse and puts both hands on my stomach. “This won’t hurt, but you will feel a lot of pressure.”

I lock eyes with Asher and his bright smile is encouraging. He holds Christina close to me and I caress her soft face with the back of a knuckle.

“Allie,” Hudson says, “I’m not having any luck. I’m going to try for an internal rotation. This will be slightly less comfortable, but it still shouldn’t hurt with your epidural.”

“Wait,” Bug says, seemingly horrified. “You’re going to stick your entire hand… up there ?”

Hudson holds up his hand. “It’s a lot smaller than what just came out of her.”

“Still… gross.”

“Darla,” Asher warns. “How about you keep those comments to yourself?”

“Take a deep breath,” Hudson says.

I feel pressure and tugging and, oh god, I don’t even want to think about what he’s doing right now. It seems to take forever, but then it’s over.

“It worked,” he says. “He’s head down for now.”

I look up. “For now? Meaning you might have to do that all over again?” I slump back onto the bed.

“There’s a chance.”

“If you can stick your whole hand up there, why not just pull him out?” Bug asks.

It seems like a legitimate question, so I await his answer.

“That’s not how it works. In breech births, you can help them along by tugging the feet and legs. But you don’t want to pull a baby out by his head. That could lead to complications.”

“But it’s safe to use forceps and the vacuum extractor?” I ask.

“Those are for when the baby is low enough in the birth canal. He’s not there yet.”

“How long will it be?” I ask, ready to have this over with.

“Minutes. Ten to thirty usually.”

“Can I hold her while we wait?”

“Better yet, try and nurse her,” he says. “Nursing will help the uterus contract and may even move Twin B along.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s do it.”

I scoot up into a more comfortable position and Asher puts Christina in my arms. I can’t help the sob that bellows out of me when she latches on.

I was never able to nurse Christopher. I pumped and he ate my breast milk, but I never got to feel the sensation of him nursing at my breast. I think it’s the most incredible feeling I’ve ever had.

“Look at that,” Asher says in amazement. “She’s doing it like a champ.”

“You should probably go tell the masses that she’s here. I’m sure they’re all waiting for news.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

He kisses my head. “I’ll just be a minute. Don’t want to miss the second act.”

By the time he returns a few minutes later, Christina is asleep on my breast. And I feel a sudden build up of pressure. “Hudson?”

“Are you feeling like you have to push?”

I nod and hand the baby off to Asher as Hudson does another ultrasound. Looking pleased, he announces, “Still head down.” He puts on a new pair of gloves and checks inside. “And I can feel his head. Whenever you want to push, Allie. This one should come easier.”

I close my eyes, hoping he’s right.

I feel a kiss on the side of my head. When I look up, I see Asher. But he’s no longer holding Christina. “Where is she?” I ask, worried.

He nods to my left. Despite my exhaustion, I smile big when I see Bug sitting on a stool holding her sister like she’s made of glass.

“Come on,” Asher says. “Let’s meet our son.”

After I push five or six times, Hudson says a bunch of stuff to the other staff and people move swiftly around down there.

“What’s wrong?”

“Allie, stop pushing. Do not push, okay? No matter how much pressure you feel.”

“Hudson, what’s going on?”

“The cord is around his neck. I’m working on freeing it.”

My eyes flood with tears. “Oh my god.”

Asher grips my shoulders, wrapping me in a half-hug. I hear Bug crying.

“Maybe we should get her out of here,” a nurse says.

“No, please. He’s my brother. I want to stay. Please.”

“I’ve got it,” Hudson says. “Cord is free. Push, Allie. Give it everything you’ve got.”

Still terrified beyond belief, I push until I feel I’ve broken every blood vessel in my face.

“He’s out.”

I lie back, relieved, but then I realize I haven’t heard him cry.

I look up at Asher. He looks as terrified as I feel as people shuffle around the room.

I close my eyes and see only one thing: Christopher.

Is he about to be joined by his brother?

Am I about to hold another dead child in my arms? Am I destined not to ever have a son?

I hear Bug’s voice. It’s weak and broken. “I did this. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

A nurse takes Christina from her arms, then another nurse escorts Bug out of the room. The whole time she’s mumbling how sorry she is.

I look at Asher again and ask him the question I fear more than any other question I’ve ever asked before. “Is he dead?”