“You know it…”
“Um, yeah – my favorites: baby smells, drooly kissies, and caffeinating… let’s go inside. I need to feed my eyeballs, and Pete wore his sexy jeans today. That man’s tight butt is a carnivore's dream,” Sunny exclaimed, walking off with the child.
Jamie looked at her, smiled, and angled her head, staring at Steffi with this determined look that was unsettling. Frankly, this whole introduction to Drake’s family in person was a lot, but oh-so welcoming too.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” Steffi said in a hushed voice, instantly defensive.
“Do you need me to ask?” Jamie said softly as the corner of her lip turned upward in almost an arrogant tone. CEO vibes, indeed. “When we talked about babies and Sunny said ‘go make your own’ – usually that’s followed by a ‘No’ or ‘Someday’… oran announcement,” Jamie paused, her eyes piercing. “So is my brother-in-law getting a surprise for Christmas?”
“You’re scary, you know that?”
“I’m good at my job – which includes reading between the lines when necessary and analyzing data.”
The two women looked at each other for a moment before Sunny leaned out the front door, beaming from ear to ear, and whispered loudly. “Congrats, Steffi-fo-feffi…” and then made a ‘zipped lips’ motion before disappearing again.
Steffi groaned in disbelief, rubbing her forehead - as Jamie laughed and her shoulders in support and understanding. The older woman kissed her forehead, chuckled again, and whispered in a hushed voice between them.
“Drake’s gonna be an amazing father – and welcome to the family, hon…”
Eight months later
Steffi woke up slowly.She heard the sounds of humming in the distance – a faint, gentle, deep humming of a lullaby. Drake was somewhere close, humming to their son… David.
Cracking her eye, she drew in a breath as her entire body sighed in relief. Labor was hard, but the wait to meet their child was even more difficult. The last several months had brought so many treasured talks, tender moments, fanciful wishes discussed in the still of the night as they held each other close… and now – this.
Her body ached, a part of her felt the emptiness of her stomach, but her heart felt infinitely big right now, recalling the last twelve hours. Some of it was a weird, hazy blur… she knewthe labor had hurt, but her mind had pushed the pain to the side in the strangest way. She remembered Drake being at her side, telling her to push… and then that look of amazement on his face before it cracked. Her bold, playful, outgoing husband cried harder than the baby did. She would never forget the wild, frantic, frightened, and erratic movements of their son as he moved his limbs outside of the womb for the first time, almost like he was floundering. The tiny swollen eyelids, the soft downy hair, that button nose that looked almost like an accordion it was so scrunched up… and the staggering feeling of connection, of a mother’s love, the moment she laid eyes on their child.
Pyroclastic flow, eat your heart out… because nothing – nothing – would compare to the surge of love that swept over her, through her, and surrounded her in those first minutes. She understood the ‘mama bear’cracks, the jokes about ‘not looking good in prison orange’- because as that fragile, helpless child was laid on her chest in the delivery room, Steffi knew there was no limit to what she wouldn’t do for David.
Their whole lives had changed in twelve hours.
She became a mother.
Drake became a father.
They became a family in every sense of the word.
Pushing herself to a seated position in bed, Steffi cringed as her swollen chest ached and wondered what it would feel like in a few days when her milk actually came in. The nurses said it was colostrum right now – and those nutrients were vital for David. As she adjusted again slightly, about to get up to go check on Drake and David, he appeared in the doorway, holding a tightly swaddled bundle, smiling at her with such love and adoration it was staggering.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey,” she replied in a hushed voice – and then gave him a wry smile. “Did you get the plates on that freight train that drove through me?”
“I don’t think freight trains have license plates,” he smiled sympathetically and nodded. “We were trying to let you sleep as much as possible, but I believe my son keeps saying ‘boobs’… and who am I to deny him?”
Steffi huffed and rolled her eyes. “He’s not saying boobs… in fact, he’s not saying anything at all.”
“It’s in man-speak.”
“Oh, is it now?”
“I’m fluent.”
“I have no doubt.”
He held the barely-fretting child up slightly and smirked at her, before whispering once more. “What was that, David – why yes – yes, son, they are lovely boobs that make you feel so much better…”