Tony stepped in and wrapped me in the warm towel as soon as I was out of the tub, and tears sprang to my eyes again when I saw that Beck and Freddie had my most comfortable sweats, shirt, and a robe ready for me to wear to the hospital.
I had the best mates.
∞∞∞
I was sore everywhere.
Everywhere.
My shoulders ached, my middle was a ball of ugh, and my legs protested as if I’d tried to run a marathon. My chest felt raw from my first attempts at feeding while waiting for my milk to start flowing right.
Even my toes hurt. I didn’t know why my toes hurt, but Ian told me that I’d been curling them when I’d been pushing, so I could only assume that was the cause.
And it was all worth it.
Twenty hours of labor.
Worth it.
I had two beautiful and healthy babies: Emelia and Dale.
We could already tell that Emelia had inherited Freddie’s heterochromia. We didn’t know for sure what the final shades would be, but her eyes were clearly going to be different colors.
Our son, Dale, had Beck’s thick black hair and rounder features. We thought his eyes were going to lighten to my hazel ones, but couldn’t be sure yet.
“I’ve got food!” Tony announced, breezing into the room with bags of sub sandwiches.
“Gimme!” I demanded, making grabby hands.
He laughed and dug through the bags. “Your cold-cut sandwich,” he said as he passed it over.
I tore away the paper as I took the sandwich from him, and salivated at the sight of processed meats. “Come to Papa.”
I moaned as I tasted the food I’d been craving for months, but had avoided because of the pregnancy diet.
Ian laughed. “A sound like that makes me worry that that sandwich might be better than sex.”
“Not better, but damn close,” I replied before taking another bite.
Tony finished handing out the food, and soon all of us—except our sleeping babies—were eating.
“These are good sandwiches,” Freddie stated.
“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “The lady at the info desk recommended them. I guess they’re popular with both the staff and patients.”
“Well, it was a good rec,” Ian said.
“Mm-hmm,” I agreed.
The small hitching noise that preceded a cry caught our attention, then Emelia broke out into newborn wails.
“I’ve got her,” Beck said. “You all keep eating.”
Beck carefully lifted our daughter from her bassinet and cradled her to his chest. He patted her bottom but seemed to decide that her diaper was fine. Then he started swaying and speaking softly to her. It was almost surprising how quickly he had her settled again.
Then he came close enough that I could hear what he was saying. “...and your brother are going to have so much fun when you get older. It’s all new and scary right now, but your daddies will protect you. And we’ll always help you find the joy in the world.”
And he was right. It was the shared love of play that had brought me closer to my mates. They hadn’t won me over withhuge romantic gestures but through fun. Laughter and shared moments showed me what our everyday could look like.
They won me over through trust and communication, values I knew they’d pass on to our children.
Beck was right. There were so many days of joy and fun in the years to come, and I couldn’t imagine a better life ahead of me.