Page 51 of Midnight and Mine

Tears fall down my cheeks. “She has the most loving dad.”

“Wynter, she’s almost here. I saw the head on the last push. Three or four more, and you’ll meet your daughter. Ready?”

I nod as Scott wipes my forehead with a wet cloth, then kisses me. The doctor counts down, and I breathe in. The room feels small like it’s closing in on me, and Dr. Laura urges me to push.

Screaming, a rush of memories flash through my mind, clicking like a view finder on steroids, going faster than I can see them. I use every ounce of adrenaline in my body as the doctor continues to say, “Push.”

“Oh my God, she’s beautiful. Her face is precious.”

Dr. Laura says, “One or two more.”

I bear down so hard, my eyes bulge. I’m dripping with sweat and once again, I see my past, Happy and relieved I shout, “I see us. I see us standing at the altar. I see us painting the baby’s room. I see us jumping from a plane. I see it. I see it all. Our first kiss on the bourbon barrel. Sliding down the gorge on a slip and slide.”

In the past two months, Scott hasn’t shown me a picture or told me anything. Everything I’ve learned about my past is through doing. When I do something I love or hate, I ask him if I used to like it. Occasionally, we’ll be in town, and someone will slip up and tell me a memory. But now, I remember everything.

Memories continue to crash like a tsunami while giving birth to my daughter. They’re coming so fast; I can’t even shout them out fast enough. The pain is no longer “feelable.” I’m numb and in a haze of memories.

“You did so good, babe,” Scott says as they hand him our baby girl as she screams. “She’s feminine and delicate, yet strong with a fierce set of lungs like her mama,” he teases me. He pulls my gown down, exposing my breasts, and lays our baby on my chest.

I look at her, then at him. “We made her. I remember making her. How many pregnancy tests did I take? Five? Ten?” I ask.

The nurse takes the baby to get her clean while Dr. Laura stitches me up. Lord, I hope I didn’t rip too much. When she’s finished, she says, “I’ll leave you alone. The pediatrician will be in to see you in a couple of hours. Congrats. And Wynter, I’m so happy your memories are returning. Your baby girl needs to know all you’ve done. You are a true role model.”

“Oh, no. No. She’s going to be a perfect little student like her doctor. If she grows up to be exactly like you, Laura, I’ll be so proud. Thanks for sticking with us through all the amnesia. Honestly, I don’t know if we could have gotten through it without your support and guidance.”

I blow out a breath. Scott kisses my lips then our baby girl on the forehead. “Yes, thanks, Laura. Those first few days after the accident almost broke me, and you were there to help me see that she’ll remember, and now she has.”

Dr. Laura leaves with a pat on my leg, and the nurse removes the sheet beneath my legs, then a team of people moves me to a new bed.

Scott gives me a sponge bath and dresses me in a new nursing gown. He slides beside me on the double bed with his shirt off as the nurse brings our baby back in. He tucks the baby girl into his chest, and as I look at them, I can’t imagine a better father.

“Look what we can do when we’re together,” he says, a tear streaming down his cheek and getting caught in his stubbled jaw.

I prayed countless times a day for my memories to return because one day, I want to share some… only some of my adventures with Scott. Even then, I’ll leave out some details. There are some things a daughter should not know about her parents.

“Are you happy?” I ask my half-naked husband.

“Are you kidding? The happiest! Hearing you spout your memories while giving birth fills me with so much love. It was as if your words stroked my soul, soothing it.” His soft, pliant lips press against mine. “So, are we going with Beatrice or Brianna?”

I smack his arm playfully. “Brianna. She’s strong. She survived a major fall, my broken leg. She healed my ribs and never kicked me in the wrong spots. It’s as if she knew she would be hurting me.”

“Brianna Paige Wilson,” I state, knowing Scott wanted her middle name to be Paige after his grandmother who passed away in our teens.

“It’s perfect, babe. She’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

I put the exclamation on it with a smooch on his bicep. “We’re perfect.”

He nods, kissing my forehead and our baby girl lets out a little sigh as she nuzzles into her daddy’s chest. Scott hands me my journal, peering at it with a slight smile, all while holding Brianna. “Do you feel like writing down the memories you had while giving birth?”

“Yeah, but some of the memories might make you blush,” I joke, but then summon each recollection. Minutes pass while I write them into the journal and each time I glance at my family, my heart squeezes.

Hours later, there’s a knock on the door, and Scott says, “Come in.”

Beau, Vanessa, Axel, Ali, Maverick, Jessica, and Major enter with balloons and gifts.

They take turns bending over Brianna’s little clear crib. Ooh’s and aah’s fill the room.

“Brother, she’s beautiful. Definitely got that from her mother,” Major pulls Scott into a hug.

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