“She’s here. Your daughter is here,” one of the nurses informs us as they wrap the tiny human in a blanket and examine her.
They lay our little girl on Alana’s chest, and we’re both crying. She’s so small and delicate, with a head of black hair just like her mother’s. As soon as she suckles onto Alana’s skin, she grows quiet, her blue eyes going wide with wonder.
“She’s an angel.” Alana sobs, grabbing my hand as we both rub our other ones on the baby’s back.
The doctors and nurses check everything to make sure she’s healthy, and once they clear Alana and the baby, most of them leave to give us some time to bond.
Mostly, we do nothing but stare at her.
“I’d like to name her Phoebe,” Alana whispers, stroking our daughter’s cheek.
All at once, it feels like I can’t breathe. “Really?”
She nods, tears spilling from her eyes. “After your mother.”
Something in me loosens, some weight that has been dragging me down since I was ten years old suddenly vanishes.
“That would be … perfect.”
Looking down on them, the two most radiant creatures I’ve ever beheld in my life, I feel nothing but deservedness that I get to share my life with them. It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve stopped questioning whether I’m worthy of this.
I was put on this earth to love Alana, of that I’m sure now. Just took me a while to be confident and brave enough to do so.
Now I get to double that love and extend it to our daughter and whatever other children we bring into our family. My past and how I got here don’t define me, this does.
My little family right here. The love I get to build and grow every single day moving forward.
* * *
