Another two hours of deep breathing and what feels like a ton of waiting, and Frankie’s OB comes in.
“Well, folks, it’s time to push,” she says, as the nurses glove her up.
Frankie looks up at me, and I don’t see an ounce of fear in her eyes. There she is, the brave, bold woman I fell in love with. She’s going to rock this.
“I love you.” I impart those words before she turns her full focus on bringing our son earth side.
“I love you.” It’s barely a whisper, and then the nurses are shifting to hold her legs back.
Her OB sits on a tiny chair between her legs, and I stay up by her head. She squeezes my hand until it goes white and I can’t feel it, but I don’t even care. Watching her push, hearing her groans and yelps as she gives birth to our child, is the most miraculous thing I’ve ever seen. There is nothing I’ve been a part of in my life up until now that has been so earth-shattering.
But then … I hear him cry, and they’re saying he’s here, and, and …
The minute I see him, my entire world shifts. The plates rearrange themselves under my feet, as if everything is clicking into place. Everything I’ve done up to this point, all the bullshit and the bad. All of the good, the recovery. Every second up to meeting Frankie and all we’ve struggled with.
It all makes sense. I look at my son and it all makes sense.
He’s red and crying, annoyed at being pulled from the cozy home his mom made for him. But the minute they lay him on Frankie’s chest, he stops. He nuzzles in. And then just stares up at her.
I almost can’t see past my own tears, they’re falling of their own free will now. I’ve never been a guy who cries, but apparently, my son is about to change everything.
Frankie is crying, sobbing, just touching every place on our son that she can. I’ve never seen her so overwhelmed with emotion, and it’s breathtaking.
When she can finally catch her breath to speak, she blinks up at me and says, “Easton?”
I look down at our baby, with his head full of thick black hair and eyes, that when he blinks open, are the same shade as his mother’s.
“Welcome to this crazy Callahan world, Easton.” I bend down to kiss his tiny button nose, and he scrunches it.
It’s the most freaking adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“Is he okay?” Frankie asks as she runs her hands over Easton’s head, ruffling his dark, wet locks.
Easton is small, his limbs tiny and so fragile looking. He’s a fighter, tears leaking from his crying when he came into the world.
Dr. Nina has appeared out of nowhere, smiling down on us and pressing her stethoscope to his back.
“His heart and lungs sound strong. Much stronger than thirty-four weeks,” she assures us. “He can stay here for now, they’re going to do some more checks and tests.”
Easton lies on Frankie’s chest for almost an hour as the nurses bustle quietly around us, taking his Apgar score and checking his lungs further. He’s tiny, only five pounds, but after an agonizing amount of time, they tell us he won’t be taken to the NICU.
As I walk next to Frankie’s bed to our postpartum room, I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s so goddamn beautiful, ethereal. She’s holding our son’s naked body to her naked chest under the blankets, and they are simply perfect.
I’ve never seen a more incredible sight.
I thank my lucky stars that almost two years ago, I was granted my life in this hospital. Because it means I get to witness this. I get to be a part of this.
41
Frankie
“Is there anything else to do in a day than stare at him?”
My whisper doesn’t disturb the baby. Easton lies on the big, fluffy white comforter of Sinclair’s king bed, softly breathing as he sleeps soundly in his red Pistons fleece footie pajamas. Sin and I are on either side of him, our faces lined up with his, watching our baby boy. To anyone else, this would be the most boring thing in the world.
But we’ve been doing it for half an hour, and I could watch him sleep the rest of his life if he’ll let me.
“Nope. Schedules are cleared. This is it,” Sinclair whispers.
It’s what we’ve been doing for the majority of the first week Easton’s been home. We lie in bed all hours of the day, one of us holding the other, who then holds the baby. It’s like the three of us can’t stop touching for one second or the spell will be broken. I want to stay in this bubble for as long as possible.
Giving birth to Easton is the single greatest moment of my life. Watching Sinclair hold him for the first time is the second.
I had no idea what I was in for before that season of spring training. I was just a single woman, focused solely on my career. There was no one I had to account for, no feelings I had to sort through. My life was completely uncomplicated, and I preferred it that way.
Oh, how so very wrong I’d been. Because all of these complications were the best things that had come into my life.
Along with the love of my life, I got a child. A perfect, adorable little boy who I can’t wait to watch grow into a man. With those two things came a family I never expected to have, a whole brood of Callahans and their extended members. I’m a part of this group now, a piece of their puzzle.
My life is intricately more now, and even on the days where the emotions are overwhelming, or I can’t get a moment alone, I love it. I crave it. I thought I felt alive when it was just me, when I could do as I please with no one to answer to. But that wasn’t living, that was just getting by.
Looking at Sinclair and Easton, I know now that this is where I’m meant to be. Packton is my home, as is this house. Well, for now.
Sinclair won’t hear of me going back to my little rental ranch, and I have no qualms about that. I want the three of us together at all times. I want to wake up each morning with them and several times through the night if Easton has his way. I want to celebrate holidays under one roof and cook dinners, and plant a garden.
This is our life, and for as much as I said we would figure out our living situation after the baby came, it just became a no-brainer. Of course, we’re going to live together. Maybe in this house, maybe in one we eventually find together. But I was foolish to think we’d live separately. There is no way I’m letting either of my boys out of my sight.
They’re my family.
My mom has pictures of the baby, and I placed a phone call a couple days after he arrived. She is happy, though her same distant self. I offered to fly her up here, and she’s seeing if she can get the time off, but I’m not counting on anything. It doesn’t affect me much, though I see how different of a mother I want to be for my son. I will never go one second without thinking of him for the rest of his life.
Speaking of moms, “I talked to your mom yesterday, and she’s coming over in about an hour with your dad.”
We both look down at our half-nude states of dress and laugh at the same time. I’ve pretty much been living in those mesh undies they give you at the hospital, while changing out my pad every half an hour. That and a nursing bra have made up my attire. Sin changes his boxers every day but doesn’t bother putting much else on, which I’m a-okay with.