Page 30 of Wistful Whispers

"Eight hours. You needed it. I just got up," he replies, clasping my hand and threading his fingers through mine before pressing the call button above the bed to summon a nurse.

The doctor checks on me to make sure I'm doing okay, given the circumstance, before they finally wheel me down the hallway. My heart hammers with every turn and every door we pass. Jake walks beside me, one hand on the edge of the bed, the other gripping mine like he’s anchoring us. He hasn’t let go since the lake, since the baby came, and I don’t want him to. We’re both still shaken and raw. And now… well, now we’re about to meet our daughter.

We stop outside the NICU and the nurse smiles gently. “She’s doing well, all things considered. Small, but breathing on her own. We just need to keep her warm and monitor her for now.”

I feel a rush of relief so powerful it makes my head spin. We’re in that in-between place, not quite celebrating and not quite out of the woods, but she’s alright. For now at least.

Jake squeezes my hand as they push open the doors and lead us past rows of incubators. Near the back of the room the nurse gestures to a small bundle inside a clear incubator, wrapped snugly in a plush white blanket with only her tiny face visible.

“She’s right here. Small but feisty,” the nurse says with a smile, glancing at Jake. “Like her parents, I suspect.”

I can’t speak. I can barely breathe. I look down at her, our tiny little girl. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing slowly, her chest rising and falling in little tremors, and I feel this fierce,aching love shoot through me, a kind of love that feels almost terrifying. She’s so fragile, so impossibly small, and she’s ours.

“She’s beautiful,” Jake whispers in a choked voice, and I look at him, tears shimmering in his eyes. I nod and squeeze his hand but don’t dare blink, afraid that if I do she might vanish that this will all turn out to be a strange, wonderful dream.

The nurse steps forward and smiles. “Would you like to hold her?”

I nod, trying to keep myself together, my hands trembling as they guide her into my arms. She’s so warm and perfectly small, and I hold her as close as I can, pressing my lips to her forehead, breathing her in. She smells faintly of the hospital but there’s something else there too—a sweetness, like a very delicate spring flower.

Her eyes flicker open just a sliver and they’re dark, searching, like she’s trying to figure out who I am. I trace my finger gently along her cheek, feeling her warmth under my touch. “Hi, baby girl,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. “I’m your mummy.”

A tiny sound escapes her lips, a soft, barely-there coo, and I feel myself come undone. This is my daughter. She’s real and right here in my arms, and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to put her down. I feel Jake lean in, his hand resting on her little blanket-covered back, and I look up at him, seeing my own wonder reflected in his eyes.

The nurse watches us. “Would Dad like a turn?”

“I’m not her—”

“Yes, he would,” I interrupt and give him a wink. How can he not be her dad, after all he did to save her? After all the love he’s already given us.

Jake looks at me, his face so full of awe like he’s afraid he might break the spell if he speaks too loudly. I nod, smiling through my tears, and carefully pass her into his arms watching as his face transforms and softens in a way I’ve never seen before. He holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world, one hand supporting her head and the other cradling her tiny back.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, and he looks at her with such reverence, his face a mixture of joy and terror, like he’s both overwhelmed and grateful to be here. “Hi, little one,” he murmurs softly, leaning down to kiss her head, his lips brushing her fine, dark hair.

The nurse gives him a gentle nudge and guides him to a nearby chair. “Do either of you want to try some skin-to-skin contact? It’ll be good for her, and for you too.”

Jake looks over at me with questioning eyes and I nod, encouraging him. He carefully hands her to the nurse before pulling off the grey jumper he’s wearing. He settles back and the nurse rests our baby’s tiny form against his bare chest. I watch as he holds her with his arms wrapping around her protectively, and a part of me feels like I could burst from the sight. I know how much this means to him, to feel her so close, to be her dad.

I wish I had my phone on me. “Does someone have a camera?” I whisper through my tears.

“You want a photo of them?” a kind nurse asks. I just nod.

“Let me see what I can do.” She disappears from the room.

Our princess settles against him, her little fingers curling into his chest hair, and he lets out a soft laugh, a sound of pure, unfiltered happiness. I see the way his body relaxes, the way his shoulders drop as he cradles her, holding her like she’s the centre of his world. I know exactly how he feels because it’s how I feel too.

He looks up at me with bright eyes. “She’s so tiny,” he whispers, a smile tugging at his lips. “But she’s here isn’t she?”

“She’s here,” I say, wiping at my eyes. “And she’s safe because of you.”

We sit together like that, the three of us cocooned in this tiny, warm world, and for a moment, I forget about the lake, Grant, the hospital. All I can see is the way Jake holds her and the way he looks at her like he’s already memorising every detail of her face, every tiny breath.

“Jake, what was your mum’s name?” I break the silence. He looks up and locks eyes with me.

“Christine.”

“Christine. I like that. I want to name her Christine.” His eyes fill with tears and this time he can’t hold them back.

“Hey, Christine,” he whispers causing her to gently pull on his hair. “Okay, maybe we’ll call you Chrissy for now,” he laughs. “Much more a little girl’s name.”

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