Page 4 of Under the Christmas Tree

Maggie took a shot over Cara’s shoulder, capturing the moment forever—Angelica tensing through another contraction, Cara monitoring her closely, and her wife holding on for dear life. It was their first. They’d talked a lot about this moment, both to Maggie and away from her. They’d been as prepared as they could be.

But nobody was ever really ready for this.

“I need Mariah,” Angelica screamed.

Her wife, Tori, looked up at Maggie desperately. There was no way she was letting go of Angelica, they both knew that.

Maggie breathed a laugh, nodding quickly and making her way over to the phone they had connected to a portable speaker. “On it.”

This had been one of Maggie’s suggestions. Sure, she was there as the photographer, but she’d played DJ for enough births that she knew it was better to offer it up early on in the process, take something off their plate. Once things picked up, it was often hard for the support people to step away, to do anything other than be completely present in that moment. Maggie was there for all the little extras.

She scrolled to the incredibly festive playlist Angelica had set up. As far as Maggie could tell, from the minute she’d known she was having a December baby, she’d been committed to having them born to a playlist of Mariah Carey, Wham!, and Brenda Lee—no matter how early in December they came.

Maggie was so here for it.

Mariah picked up around them, Angelica letting out a noise somewhere between despair and delight, and Maggie snapped pictures of the phone, the speaker, and the Christmas travel mugs the pair had arrived with.

The bells kicked in and everything felt like it was moving in slow, crystal-clear motion. Cara spoke clear, familiar words that told Maggie it was time—she’d photographed enough births with Cara to know how things worked—and Angelica gave even Mariah Carey a vocal run for her money.

Maggie fell into the familiar rhythm with Cara, knowing where she needed to be and when. She moved around, clicking picture after picture, capturing every moment she could of this tiny baby’s entry into the world, surrounded by love, pain, and Christmas songs. Maggie wasn’t sure she could think of a better combination to be born to, honestly. Maybe less pain, but she’d seen enough births both with and without them to know that, without an epidural, Angelica wasn’t getting through this pain-free. Angelica knew it too. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to scream the place down.

It didn’t take long for the baby to arrive, and Maggie followed his first journey up into his mom’s desperate, waiting arms. She caught the tears, the joy, the piercing baby screams, and, most of all, the love and relief. That incredible moment at the end of nine long months when a family expanded and their life would never be the same again.

The first birth Maggie had shot had been a favor for a friend. She’d been an established photographer, but she’d never done a birth. When Mariana, her college roommate, had approached her, asking whether she might be willing, Maggie had barely had to think twice. She’d seen other photographers shooting those moments, seen the intimacy and trust, the beauty of being present and documenting those moments, and she was only too happy to be that for her oldest friend. And, after the first, she’d been only too happy to make it part of her regular work.

Now, births made up a good chunk of her work. Sure, sometimes it made life a little complicated—babies were unpredictable, and due dates were seldom hit exactly—and she’d missed more than one planned event, or had to dash out in the middle of something to make a birth, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.

When she got to document this magic every day, who would she be to complain?

The newborn calmed as his mothers soothed him, and the two shared a look, one Maggie wasn’t going to miss. It was a look that spoke of how much they loved each other, how much they couldn’t believe this tiny little thing was theirs, and how much admiration and awe they had for all that Angelica had done. Maggie knew the exhaustion would hit soon, but, for now, she got to ride high on the endorphins of having done it.

“Well, he’d better love Christmas,” Tori said, gesturing to the phone and speaker.

“Of course he will,” Angelica cooed, rocking her son slightly. “It’s in his blood.”

“When the first thing you hear earthside is Mariah Carey, how could it not be?” Cara murmured with a smile.

Maggie liked her. She was good at her job, efficient, clear, and friendly. All things Maggie had come to understand were vital when someone was having a baby. She’d shot a couple where the staff were not in tune with what the birthing person needed and she hadn’t been impressed.

When someone was in the worst pain of their life and probably more vulnerable than they’d ever been, the last thing they needed was staff who didn’t get it, who couldn’t communicate with or help them, or who seemed to want to be anywhere else but there.

Cara wasn’t like that, and, given the number of births Maggie attended at Saint Giles Memorial Hospital, she was glad of it.

Of course, Cara wasn’t even close to Maggie’s favorite member of staff at Saint Giles, but not everyone could be Katie.

Katie who, Maggie was pretty sure, would be on duty now.

She hadn’t been in on rounds, so Maggie still wondered whether she might be able to catch her by surprise. Perhaps it was odd, but, running high on the emotions of another wonderful birth, she always loved catching Katie off-guard with her presence. There was something about that moment of Katie seeing her, not expecting it—even though, at this point, she probably should—and the smile that took over her face.

Maybe Maggie just liked seeing her friends smile. Maybe it was just Katie. She wasn’t really sure.

As things calmed and quieted in the room, Maggie took pictures of the happy little family, basking in the beauty of the moment. And, eventually, it was time for her to pack up and leave the three of them to it.

She congratulated them again, greeted their new son, and promised to be in touch with the pictures soon. Since time was about to become entirely irrelevant to them through a cycle of sleeping, feeding, and diapers while being more sleep-deprived than they’d ever been in their lives, she wasn’t suresoonreally meant anything to them, but she, at least, would have a good handle on time.

With one last glance at them, she slipped out of the room door and into the hospital corridor.

There were holiday decorations up out here, more than in most wards given that this was, in many ways, a gentler, more family-friendly space. She watched them twinkling in the light as she made her way to the nurses’ station.

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