Page 77 of The Bartender's Baby

The check-in was easy, along with the labor. Once the pain really started to kick in, Nurse Veronica told me not to be a hero and to get the epidural if I wanted to, so I did. Nate stood by the bed, petting my hair as we decided we would name the baby after my father, and then he snuggled up next to me as I took a catnap, on more good advice from Nurse Veronica.

When it finally came time to push—with all 30,000 students, interns, nurses, and residents in the room, so I was right, and there were a lot of people up in my business—it wasn’t too bad. For all the horror stories I’d read and watched and listened to, my pregnancy and labor were smooth. I felt pressure and a bit of pain, but nothing unmanageable.

Especially when the doctor placed the wiggling and wailing boy on my chest.

Born at 10:13 p.m. on July 16, George weighed in at a hefty eight pounds, eleven ounces, and was twenty-one inches long.

I hadn’t been able to really see him at first because I was crying so much, but Nate kept muttering about how perfect and beautiful he was. It took no time at all to clean up and for everyone to exit the room—at least, that was how it felt. Like I’d waited so long for my rainbow baby, nothing else mattered.

Now, the three of us sat in the quiet, learning everything about one another.

Like how George was insatiable and took to nursing like a fish to water.

“A boob man,” Nate whispered as he dragged his fingertip over George’s forehead. “Like me.”

I gave in to a quiet laugh. “I hope he takes after you for more than just that.”

Nate stilled, the meaning of my absently delivered words settling between us. He’d been leaning over the railings on the bed, but he shifted to gently sit on the mattress by my knees,facing me. He placed his hand on my thigh over the blankets. “You want him to be like me?”

“Of course I do.” I shook my head in faux annoyance. “Who else is going to teach him how to be so considerate and understanding? Who else will show him how to treat others with generosity and to love with his whole heart?”

Nate’s face flushed as his Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes glassy.

My own voice cracked. “Of course I want him to be like you. You’re the best person I know.”

He licked his lips then bent to kiss my forehead, curving his hand over the side of my face. He swept at my tears with his thumb and pressed his mouth to mine. “I love you.” Then he brushed his lips over mine again. “I love you so much.”

Only after a third kiss did he back away, allowing me enough space to gather the courage. “I love you too.”

The words had been there on my tongue for a long time, but they might as well have been glued together, locked in a box, and buried six feet under the ground for how difficult it was for me to get them out.

Nate rested his forehead on mine, his hands dragging over my head and shoulders. “Jesus, Tab, you’re everything to me. I can’t believe I’m here with you. I can’t believe we’re heretogetherafter all those years working with each other. And you…” He shifted back, his eyes red-rimmed as he took in George. “I can’t promise I’ll never let you down, but I promise I’ll try so goddamn hard not to.” He placed a reverent hand on the top of George’s head, promising him too. “I won’t let you down.”

And the next part came out much easier. “I want you on the birth certificate. As his father.”

Nate’s eyes widened slightly before a slow smile spread across his face. He reached out to curl his hand around the back of my neck, nodding. I knew how much it meant to him to berecognized as George’s dad. I also knew he wouldn’t let either of us down.

“It’s my honor and privilege,” he said eventually. “Thank you for giving it to me.”

We sat like that for a long time, long after George had finished eating and drifted off to sleep, his tiny body lax in my arms.

It was after one in the morning by the time I could take a shower and change into the pajamas I’d packed. Nate texted everyone to check in, sending pictures and the stats. With George sleeping soundly in the little cart they’d brought in for him, we turned the lights down low and tried to get some sleep. Between the diaper changes and occasional check-ins by nurses, the first night was okay. By no means a breeze, but it was okay.

But the second night in the hospital was an absolute nightmare. George cried a lot, and neither Nate nor I could calm him. I barely got a wink of sleep, and by the time the sun came up, I was ready to get the hell out of there.

After filling out forms and receiving the sign-off from the doctor, we strapped George into the car seat and left the hospital.

It was sort of surreal. That we went in as two adults and came out as a family of three.

And we were allowed to just leave.

With all the supposed knowledge and confidence to be a parent.

The drive home from the hospital was painfully slow. I sat in the back, next to the car seat, my hand on George’s socked feet beneath the blanket we’d tucked around him. Every bump and turn made me wince.

Nate kept glancing in the rearview mirror, his brows pinched together in concern. “We’re almost there. A few more minutes.”

I nodded, biting my lip against the discomfort. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck after the sleepless night. The euphoria of meeting my son had worn off, replaced now by bone-deep exhaustion and pain. My milk had come in, and it felt like I had two very large, very tender watermelons strapped to my chest.

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