“Get some rest, dad. You’re going to need it.”
She leaves the room, closing the door and taking almost all the light with her. That’s okay; I have all the brightness I need in my arms.
She’s sound asleep, her sweet breaths even and strong. I’ve never wanted to listen to someone breathe as much as I do now. I’m scared I’ll wake up and it’ll be a dream, she won’t be here. But she is. My baby girl is here. She’s in my arms and she’s safe, alive. Perfect.
I don’t know how long I sit and stare at her, but it’s long enough for my arms to start to fall asleep. I lift myself from the chair and carefully place her into her rolling bed, making sure her hat is sitting snuggly against her bald head and her blanket is still wrapped tightly around her.
“How’s she doing?”
The voice is croaked and broken, but it’s the most beautiful worn-down voice I’ve ever heard.
I lean over the railing on the bed and lay a kiss to my wife’s cheek. “Hey, you’re awake. You should be resting.”
“I know, I know. I’m actually kind of tired of being tired, if that makes sense.”
I grin. “It does.”
“Is she adjusting okay?”
“She’s doing awesome. I even changed her poopy diaper.”
Haley frowns. “I missed the first one?”
“You didn’t miss much.” I wink. “She’s down now, been out for a few hours.”
“Is it bad that I kind of want to wake her up just so I can stare into her eyes?”
Chuckling, I say, “Not at all. I’ve had that thought myself several times. Want to see her?”
“Yes, please.” I work with her to adjust her in the bed until she can see over the railing. She groans in pain a few times and I have to fight back tears. I hate seeing her like this, but it’s the most beautiful pain she’s gone through. She knows it too.
Rolling the bed over to her, I grab our girl out and hand her over to her mama. Silent tears streak down Haley’s face as she peers down at our sleeping angel. Nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever felt so right as this moment.
“She’s perfect.”
“That’s what I said.”
“She has your nose.”
“No way. She definitely has yours.”
“She’s perfect,” Haley repeats in awe.
“I know,” I say. “That’s what I said.”
We stare at her for as long as Haley can stand to be in that position. When she’s unable to endure it any longer, I put our little girl back in her bed and adjust Haley back down to a comfortable level. I scoot my chair as close to the bed as possible and sit between my two favorite girls.
“We have to name her, ya know.”
“I know,” Haley says sleepily. “I have the perfect name.”
“You do?”
“Amari Grace Addams. It means miracle.”
A flicker in my chest tells me she’s right on the mark. “It’s perfect.”
“She’s perfect.”
“That’s what I said.”
I glance over at Haley, watching as she begins to drift off to sleep with a smile on her face. I lean over and grab her hand. She doesn’t move, so I assume she’s out cold. I wrap her hand with mine and kiss it over and over.
“Thank you, Haley,” I say quietly. “For her. For you. For us. For giving me the future I’ve always dreamed of. For teaching me to live in the now. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’ll never be able to repay you.”
She opens her eyes and flicks them toward Amari, our miracle. Squeezing my hand tightly, she closes her eyes again. It’s another few seconds before she rasps out, “You already did, Gaige. You already did.”
