“You’re doing great, Stephanie,” the doctor murmurs, his voice soothing and gentle.
Looking down, Stephanie’s eyes are on me and she’s got tears sliding down her temples. I squeeze her hand just as the doctor tells me to look over at him. I watch as he pulls my son out of my wife’s body.
I didn’t think it’d be as beautiful as when our others were born, that somehow a C-section took away some of the magic of childbirth. It doesn’t. It’s fucking breathtaking. I watch as they clean him up a little, I can’t take my eyes off of him.
“Is he okay?” Stephanie asks.
Lifting up the camera, I take as many pictures as I can. “He’s perfect,” I cry out.
The nurse brings him to me, all wrapped up. Thankfully, she takes the camera from me. Smiling at her as she takes a few pictures, then I dip down and show him to Stephanie. We smile for the camera, but mostly she cries as she looks at our new bundle.
“He’s perfect,” she cries.
“He really is.”
I’m ushered out of the room a few moments later, baby in my arms, and am forced to leave Stephanie behind. I hate it. Every fucking minute of being away from her.
After Sawyer is checked completely out. I hold him and wait for Stephanie. It seems like seconds later she’s wheeled out of the operating room and they inform us that they can do skin to skin contact.
I watch, completely mesmerized by everything in front of me.
This is it.
This is the life that I always wanted, that I dreamed about and it’s a reality. Twenty-three years ago, I didn’t think that I would have this with her.
I thought this dream would never come to fruition. That we’d never be married, never have a family and now? It’s all right here in front of me, and every chaotic moment of it is perfect.
“Thank you, honey,” I whisper as she holds our newest baby against her chest, both of them sleeping soundly.