by Bec Botefuhr
“Doyouthinkthebabyishurt?God,Sierra,Ididn’tmeanfor…”
Ipressafingertohislips.“It’sok,it’sjustmebeingallroundand shit…”
Hiseyeswiden,andheburstsoutlaughingagain.“Awbaby,you’re goddamnedcutewhenyou’relikethis.”
Irollmyeyesandpressmycheektohischest.“Thatwashot,Mr.
Harrison.”
“Hmmmm,youlikeseeingyourmanwankhimself?”
Ishudder.“God,sayitlikethatandyeah,Itotallydo.”
Hegrinsandpressesakisstomyhead.“Ihavetogetreadyfor work.”
Inodandhughimcloseramoment.MarcusworksasaCEOofhis owncompanynow.HeletsmedoalotofthePAworkfromhomeandhe madesurethemassivebuildinghepurchasedtostartit,wasniceand closetoourlovelyhome.Heseemsreallyhappy.Hecomeshomeandhe hasnohasslesfromconstantphonecallsormessages.Wejustgettohang out.MyparentsvisitoftenandQuinncomesoutwithRaineeveryfew weekends.Wedon’thearfromChayne,itseemsshetookthehintand left.Marcushadalottoworkoutwithhisoldjob,butslowly,itallbegan sortingitselfout.
“Notmuchlongerandyou’llbeathomewithmeandthepeanutfora month.”
Heshudders,withnerves?Idon’tknow.
“Ican’twait.”
“Really?”
Henods.“Yeah,I’mallpreparedforthelongnights.”
Ismileandstepoutoftheshower,ignoringthepinchinginmyback that’sgettingworse.IwrapatowelaroundmyselfandMarcusdoesthe same.Whenwe’redressedandhe’sreadyforwork,wesitatthe breakfastbarhavingacoffee.Rightbeforehe’sreadytogo,Ifeelawarm gushofwatertrickledownmylegs.Foramoment,I’mfairlysureI’ve wetmyself.Ok,Iknowpregnantwomendon’thavegoodbladders,but damn,diditgetthatbad?
“Sierra,areyouok?”
IlookupatMarcus,whoiswatchingmewithaworriedexpression.
“I…somethingisrunningdownmyleg.”
Helooksconfusedforamoment.Hecomesaroundthebenchand looksdownatmylegs.
“Didyou…”
“No,”Icry.“Ididn’twetmyself.”
“Sierra…Ithink…yourwatershavebroken.”
Isnapmyheadupandgasp,“What?Istillhaveafewweeks!”
“Iguessthebabydoesn’tthinkthat.”
“Ohgod,whatdowedo?Marcus,whatdowedo?”
Hegripsmyshoulders.“Aren’tImeanttobetheonefreakingout?
ComeonSierra,we’vegotthis.Wewenttoallthoseclasses.”
“Ican’t…ohno…ohgod.”
“I’mcallingyourmom,ok?Calmdown,we’regoingtobefine.You candothis.Youaretoughsweetheart.”
“Myvajayjay,it’sgoingtoberuined!”Icry,cuppingmyfaceinmy hands.
Marcuslooksdownatme,trulyconfused.
“Yourwhat?”
“Ohgod,I’mnotready.I’mnotready!”
“Hey,”hesays,puttingonhisdominantvoice.“Lookatme.”
Iopenmyeyesandlookathim,trembling.
“We’redoingthis,andwe’regoingtobefine.Justthink,soonyou’ll haveabeautifulbabyinyourhands.”
“Beautifulbaby,”Iwhisper.“Yes.”
“Goodgirl,nowsittightwhileIcallyourmom.”
HewalksaroundthecornerforamomentandIresumepanicking.
Whenhecomesback,Iseeaglimpseofpaniconhisownface,buthe quicklysmothersit.Hegathersmyhospitalbagsandhelpsmeup.
“We’regoingtothehospitaltogetthischeckedout,ok?”
MybackcrampsagainandIwhimper.
“Areyouok?”heasks.
“Crampsinmybackaregettingworse.”
“Allright,we’reonourway.Hanginthere,baby.”
Thedrivetothehospitalisbrutal,seriously.It’sslow,trafficgetsin ourwayandbythetimewegettheremybackpainhasgonefrombadto worse.Anurserushesoutandhelpsusinside.Whenwegetin,Iseemy motherandsister.Theycomerushingoverassoonastheylayeyeson me.Mymothertakesmyhandsandinstructsmetobreathe.
“You’regoingtobejustfine,goodgirl,keepbreathing.”
Icryoutasthepaininmybackbeginstoresembleaknifebeing stabbedintoit.
“God,it’ssopainful.Whyisitinmyback?”Icry,rubbingmyback furiously.
“Backlabor,”thenursesayssoftly.“Thebabymighthaveitsspineto yours,andthatwillcausethelabortobefeltintheback,insteadofthe front.”
“Isthatbad?”Icry.
Sheshakesherheadquickly.“No,itcanjustbeadifferentkindof pain.”
Whenwearriveatthebirthingroom,Marcushelpsmeontothebed.
Mymomrushesaroundgatheringicecubeswhilemysistersitsbeside meholdingmyhand.
“Allright,we’rejustgoingtocheckhowfaralongyouare,oklove?”
Inodandshiftuncomfortablyasthenursechecks.It’soneofthe mostuncomfortablethingsIhaveeverdone.Seriously.
“Oh,wow,youarecomingalongnicely.You’rearoundseven centimeters.Itwon’tbelongnowlove.Doyouwantsomepainrelief?”
“No,”Igroan,rollingtomyside.
“I’llgogatherthedoctorandwe’llgofromthere.”
Marcusbeginsrubbingmybackasthepainbecomesoverwhelming.
“HowdidInotknowIwasinlabor?”Icry.
Mymotherstrokesmyhair.“Sometimesitjustcreepsuponus.
You’redoingverywellhoney.”
“Ithurts!”
“Iknow,itwillbealloversoon.”
Itwasn’t.Ittookanothertwelvehoursformetogettoten centimeters,andanothertwohoursofpushingbeforewefinallybrought ourbabyintotheworld.Islumpdownwhenthedoctorsdeliverandmy eyesflutterclosed.ThenIhearthatcry.Thecrackly,newcryoffresh life.Iopenmyeyes,Marcusisdowntheotherendofmybody,tearsare stumblingdownhischeeksasthedoctorshandhimalittlebluebundle.
“It’sagirl,”herasps.
HewalksovertomeandIfeelmyowntearsswellasheplacesthe littlebundleintomyarms.ThefirstthingIsee,arethemassamountsof blackhair.She’sperfectineveryway.Pinkcheeks,rosylips,perfect littlechubbyfeatures.Isobloudlyandbrushmyfingerdownherface.
She’sperfect.She’severythingIcouldeverwantandmore.
“Oh,Marcus,she’sperfect.”
Heputshisarmsaroundme,strokingmyhairandusinghisother handtosliphisfingerintoherlittlefist.
“Ohcongratulationsyoutwo,she’sperfect.Welcome,sweetheart,”
mymothersobs,kissingusboth,andthenourdaughterbeforeleaving.
“Wedidit,”Iwhisper,swipingatearfrommyeyes.
“She’sbeautiful,Sierra.She’severythingIeverimaginedandmore.”
“She’sours.”
“Allours.”
Thedoctorsdowhattheyhavetodo,andwhenwe’realone,Marcus crawlsintothebedbesideme.Hewrapshisarmsaroundmeandour daughter,andwesitstaringdownather.
“Esme?”hewhispers.
“Yes,it’sperfect.”
“She’sperfect.”
Ilookupathim,andheleansdown,kissingthesideofmymouth.
“Whoknewwe’denduphere?”
Inod,swallowingbackmytears.“Youmadeallmydreamscome true,MarcusHarrison.”
Hetightenshisgriponus.“Nosweetheart,youdidthatallonyour own.Ijustgaveyouahelpinghand.”
~*~*~*~*~
MARCUS
“MarcusHarrison,sheisnotafootball!”
IchuckleasItuckmysixmontholddaughterundermyarmand carryherlikeafootballtoherchangeroom.Sierragigglesasshefollows downbehindme.WhenIget
toEsme’sroom,Iplaceheronthetableand smiledownather.Shecacklesandreachesupattheyellowducks hangingaboveherhead.
“It’sdaddy’sturn!”Sierrasmiles,slumpingdownontotheoldrocker inthecorner.
“Wegotthis,don’twe,Esme?”Igrindownatmylittlegirl.
Esmesmilesbackatme,abig,toothlessgrinthatgetsmyheart everytime.She’stheimageofhermother,onlyshehasmydarkfeatures.
Herthick,darkhair,curlsattheendsandflicksout.Shehasbigbrown eyes,andtwoperfectdimples.Ileandown,lettinghergivemeoneofher famoussloppykisses.
“Aw,daddyisasucker,”Sierrateases,standingandwrappingher armsaroundmywaist.
ShepeersaroundmeandlooksdownatEsme.
“She’ssodarncute!”
“Shegotitfromhermomma,”Igrin.
“Maybeatouchfromherdaddy.”
“Maybeatouch,”Ismirk.
Whenwe’redonechanging,weallgoouttothelargepatioandIput Esmeinherrocker.IfallbackontotheswingchairandSierracrawlsin nexttome.
“Areyouhappy,Mr.Harrison?”
“Icouldneverbeanything,butwithmytwofavoritegirlsaround.”
“You’restillasmoothtalker,sexysweet.”
Ichuckle.Sierrastillusesthenicknameforme,thewayshedidthe dayshecreatedit.Igripherhand,pressingittomylips.Thegirldrives mewild,nomatterhowmanydaysgoby,shealwaysmanagestobring mepurehappiness.
“Onlysmoothforyou,baby.”
“Hey,Marcus?”
“Hmmmm.”
“Didyoueverthinkthisiswhereyouwouldendup?”
Ileanbackinthechairandstareoutattheoceanovertheroad.Ifshe hadaskedmethattwoyearsago,IwouldhavetoldherIneverwantedto losemycareerorchangemylife.Heck,IthoughtIwashappywith Chayne.Ithoughtnothingcouldevermakemefeelbetter.Butlifeis funnylikethat,isn’tit?Sometimesyouthinkyouhaveeverything figuredout,butreally,you’rejustgettingstarted.IthoughtIhaditall, butinreality,Ididn’thaveanyofit.Ihadacareer,IhadbigdreamsbutI didn’tknowthemeaningofhappiness,untilSierra.
“Ididn’teverthinkthisishowthingswouldgoforme,sweetheart, butIcantellyou…Iwouldneverchangeit.Iwouldn’tdoagoddamned thingdifferently.”
“Doyouevermissyourjob?”
Ishrug.“TherearedaysImissthecrazinessofthejob,butwhenI walkinthedoortoyoueachnight,andseemydaughtersmilingatme fromherchair…Idon’tthinkanythingcouldeverbeworthmorethan that.”
“Youwannaknowsomething,sexysweet?”
“Always.”
Shegrinsupatme,hereyessparklingasshewrapsherhandaround oneofmine.
“Iloveyou.”
Grinning,Ipressakisstoherforehead.
“Youwannaknowsomethingsweetheart?”
“Always.”
“Iloveyoutoo.”
Andheck…thatwasallthereeverneededtobe.
THEEND
