A Mistake Worth Living

Tiny Toes

Tiny Toes - Chan POV

I hold our baby securely against my chest as I rock back and forth in the chair beside Monica's bed.

When I was forced out of the delivery room and into the hall - I thought the worst. It was the longest, most terrifying moment of my life.

I'm not a religious man, but as I was slid to the floor with my head in my hands, I prayed. I haven't prayed since I was a child and my father was in the hospital. When we lost him, I told myself there was no God. But in that moment if anyone could save my family, it was him.

I was away from Monica for a couple hours. The Doctors found me right where they left me and said she was going to be okay, but she needed to rest.

Relief came over me. I went to the waiting room where our families were sitting and told them Monica was doing good but she was tired. I didn't want to worry them with the details of the last few hours. Thankfully, they understood. And after exchanging congratulations and hugs, we went our separate ways.

I've never been happier than I am right now.

Quiet whimpers escape the little bundle in my arms. "You're alright. Shhh..." I adjust the baby slightly and the whimpering subsides. Tiny fingers grip my thumb as its face slowly relax from the soothing sound of my voice.

"You're a natural."

Quickly, I look up to find Monica smiling over at me. She struggles to keep her eyes open as I stand to move closer to her.

"We were wondering when you might wake up." I say softly, sitting on the edge of her hospital bed. "What do you say, you want to hold our daughter?"

Her eyes widen, her breathing more shallow. "It's a girl?"

I grin from ear to ear, my hand supporting her head. "It's a girl." I confirm.

Her vision begins to blur as tears form at the base of her eyes. She carefully takes our little girl into her arms and I gently unfold mine from around her small body. "Your Daddy never doubted you for a second." Resting the infants skin against her own bare chest creates a comfort that slows the child's breathing and soon puts her to rest.

Leaning in, I kiss my wife. "I love you guys so much." I place my hand gently on our daughters full head of hair; no question she got it from Monica.

A tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. "We love you, too."

This is our little family and it's never been more amazing. More complete. I never want this feeling to end - the feeling of joy, love and fulfillment. I've got a responsibility now. I have a life I need to protect other than my own. I'm a parent, I need to be there for every ballet recital, bake sale, scrapped knee and lemonade stand. For every daddy-daughter dance and heart break my arms will be open. People say you don't know what love is until you have a child; I didn't believe that statement until now.

I can't take my eyes off her. She's so tiny - so beautiful. She has long eyelashes and big dark eyes...which will probably find their natural color in the next few weeks. Monica and I both have blue eyes so it'll make sense if she does too. Her little fingers are wrapped tightly around Monica's as she continues to sleep soundly.

There is a soft knock on the door before it opens and Dr. Connolly appears.

With a smile on his face, he makes his way to the foot of the bed. "How are we feeling?" He asks as a nurse walks around to check Monica's vitals.

"Very well." Monica announces, gently rubbing the babies back.

"That's great to hear." He smiles and looks over at the nurse.