Back to Me (Book Three ✓)

forty-one

EMMA

A roar erupts from my lips, the pressure in my lower back and belly beyond excruciating. Gemma let's go of my hand, gives Nadine a purposeful look, and storms towards the door.

Just as she's about to open it, it swings open, the most beautiful, dark bedhead walking through just when I need him most.

"Beau," I gasp, finally able to breathe again. Oh, I never imagined I'd be so happy to see his face.

I don't care where he's been. I can only think of how bad it hurts and how much better I feel with him next to me.

"I'm here, Em." Beau rushes towards my bedside, quickly replacing Gemma's place on my right. Grabbing my hand and planting sweet kisses in my hair, his voice is soft and grounding. "I'm here, baby. I made it. You're doing so amazing. Oh, my God."

Oh, my God is right. A scream tears through me and this time, I swear if I look down my whole body will be split down the middle.

"Okay, Emma? Emma, you're doing great." My OB speaks calmly, so confident in her ability to do the unthinkable.

I wish I had that confidence.

"Listen, Emma, we're only a couple big pushes away now. Can you give me a big push? On three, okay?"

Holding's Beau's fingers in a death grip, I use all my might and push hard.

"Oh, great push, Emma. I can see the head now. Let's do one more big, big, big push."

And I do as she says, the pressure surmounting to an unbelievable degree until all I can feel is stretching, burning. And then so much wetness.

"Congratulations." The OB says to Beau and me, causing a pulling sensation as she tugs the baby the rest of the way out. "You've got a little girl."

A girl. My heart flutters in my chest, my arms outstretched for the presence I already miss.

I'd thought she was a boy this entire time, but now, of course she's a girl. Of course it's her.

"A girl." Beau sputters, his expression one of awe as he stares at our tiny, pink, perfect baby daughter.

My perfect moment is cracked when I realize I'm not hearing everything I'm supposed to. While the OB finishes her work between my thighs, I watch the nurses hurriedly pulling my baby away from me.

"Why..." my arms flail for my girl. "Why isn't she crying? Beau?" My stare is frenzied, my head on a swivel as I try to follow my daughter with my eyes. "Why isn't she crying?"

Everything else in the world stops. All I can hear is the screeching sound of the silence, unencumbered by a newborn wail, the squeaks of nurses shoes against the floor, machines whirring. My chest constricts tightly, my heart physically aching the more time that passes without that precious sound.

I feel sick, hopeless. Lost.

And then it happens. The room cracks with life, the most perfect, tiny baby cry bringing tears to my eyes.

The sweetest relief, the most immeasurable gratitude washes through me. Nestling my head into Beau's neck, I let myself cry while they weigh our sweet girl and take down her length.