Page 104 of The Dugout
Forever.
Our son is born seventeen minutes later. The doctor came in time to catch his shoulders, and part of me wants to demand the bill payment go to our baby-faced nurse. But those thoughts are chased away the instant our baby is laid out on Ava’s chest.
I’m stunned. My throat is tight, and my hand trembles when I rest a palm on his dark head of hair.
“Oh, Ryd,” Ava whispers. “He’s perfect.”
I blink a few times and kiss her, then the top of his head. I worried about what I’d feel when this moment came. Some fears that I’d be unable to connect were always there, lingering beneath the surface.
But the way my heart thuds, the instant need to protect and love this tiny person, I’ll never understand how I couldn’t love him.
I hardly know him, and I’d do anything for him.
The moments after are busy, but I’m captivated. I follow the nurses around like a puppy, watching as they weigh, measure, and examine my boy. He has strong lungs, but when he blinks his bleary eyes and looks at me for the first time, I almost break down sobbing right there.
“Want to give him a bath, Dad?”
I feel like a kid the way the nurses need to hold my hand the entire time, but after it’s done, I settle in the bed next to Ava, our son asleep on my chest.
“Are we still thinking Will?” I whisper. We’d played with names and liked the idea of using her last name.
“William Josh, or should we do the full Joshua?” she asks, her voice soft.
“Josh would throw up if we did.” She laughs and hugs my waist. I lean down and kiss Ava again. “I love you.”
She beams up at me. “I love you. Always have.”
Always will.
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