“No, darling. You brought two lives into the world. Against all odds, they arethriving. And Davey is there with them. He sent photos. Do you want to see them?”
“Yes, please!”
Danna leaned over, scrolling through the impressive number of photos he sent in the hour he’d been there.
Their faces were obscured some by the cannulas in their noses, but they were beautiful to me. I couldn’t help but cry.
“God damn it,” I sniffled. “They’re perfect. But why the hell do they look like him and him alone?”
“They always do at first,” the nurse said. “It will even out. They’re perfect.”
“God, they are! I did it. I survived and got them here.”
“Let’s give it a little more time and then I will bring you down,” the nurse said. “You can meet them. They have quite the birth story.”
“I’d like to forget the eventful parts,” I sighed.
“I was talking about their birthdays. Robbie was born last night. Technically, Max was born this morning. They have separate birthdays.”
“Really?” I asked. “Oh my God!”
“That’s going to be a nightmare as they get older,” Danna chuckled. “But you’ve got time to worry about that.”
“This is what my body gets for going into labor early and then kicking into full gear.”
“It did a great job. They were just ready to meet you,” Danna said. “Babies come when they want to—not a minute sooner or later.”
Davey
The boys—ourboys—were actual perfection. They’d done nothing so far other than breathe and fuss a little, but they needed to do nothing more to impress us. I loved them and felt guilty for getting all the quality time with them, but before breakfast, Eva arrived in a wheelchair. She looked better than expected—if not a bit exhausted.
“There they are,” Eva said, tears in her eyes as a nurse wheeled her over to the incubators. “Our boys.”
“They are doing so well,” I said.
“Who is who?” Eva asked.
“Robbie is on the left. Max is on the right.”
“How can you tell?” Eva snickered. “Is that terrible?”
“They have labels. That’s all. At home, we’re fucked.”
“You will figure it out,” the nurse said. “Nail polish on toes. It will help. Give it a few days. You’ll know. Promise.”
“I hope so,” Eva said. “Damn. They really are carbon copies of one another.”
“From what I can tell, Robbie is the quiet grouch. Max is the loud one. He’s going to be a party animal,” I said.
“So, Robbie is me and Max is you,” she giggled.
“You said it, not me,” I insisted.
“You can hold them if you want,” the nurse said.
“Yes, please!” Eva grinned.
We settled into two rockers, Eva oh-so-gently easing. I didn’t know how a person could have their stomach torn up completely and still be moving within a six-hour period. I was certain I couldn’t do the same. Eva rocked Robbie while I held Max.