Invisible String

45

He sat beside me again, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. “We tell them the truth. After. When we’re holding the baby and there’s no turning back.”

I gave a breathless laugh and winced as another contraction rolled through me. “I think that moment’s coming sooner than we thought.”

He kissed the back of my hand. “Whatever happens, Tay… we’re gonna figure it out. We always do.”

And somehow, even in this completely surreal moment — sitting in a hospital gown, Christmas morning, expecting a baby we never planned for — I believed him.

The door swung open again, and the nurse came back in with a calm, warm smile and a monitor cart in tow. Her energy was so casual, like this was any other Tuesday — not the Christmas morning I’d just found out I was nine months pregnant.

“You’re doing great, Taylor,” she said, glancing at the monitor before setting it aside. “We’re going to move you into a delivery room soon, but before we do—”

She paused, her eyes twinkling just a little.

“Do you want to know if you’re having a boy or a girl?”

I blinked at her, stunned all over again.

It hadn’t even occurred to me.

I looked at Travis. He looked at me.

Then, at the exact same time, we both shook our heads.

“No,” I said softly, still clutching his hand. “I think we’ve had enough surprises for one day… but we want to keep this one.”

“Yeah,” Travis added with a breathy laugh. “Let’s meet them when they’re ready.”

The nurse grinned. “I love that. Alright then — we’ll keep the mystery alive a little longer.”

She made a note in her chart and started prepping for the move, but my heart was already racing again — not from fear this time, but something else.

Anticipation.

We didn’t know what was coming. But in just a few short hours — maybe less — we’d be holding them. Our unexpected, unbelievable, miracle Christmas baby.

The delivery suite was quiet and softly lit, a little warmer than the sterile triage room we’d just come from. It had a rocking chair in the corner, a little bassinet already waiting, and soft beeping monitors ready to track every heartbeat, every contraction. The second we rolled in, the reality hit me all over again.

This is happening.

I’m having a baby. Today.

Travis helped me from the wheelchair to the hospital bed, his hand never leaving mine. I caught the flicker of nerves in his eyes as he looked around the room — taking in the IV stand, the monitors, the stack of supplies tucked neatly on a tray.

He swallowed hard. “Well… this is familiar.”

I gave him a look, even as another contraction started to build. “Yeah. Except last time we were here for IVF retrievals and blood tests. Not… surprise babies.”

He huffed a quiet laugh and sat beside me, rubbing my back as I tried to breathe through it. The nurse had said I was already about four centimeters dilated, and my contractions were consistent and strong — but there was no telling how fast things would move.

I leaned back, letting the bed support me, and closed my eyes for a second. My whole body felt like it was buzzing. Not just from the pain, but the adrenaline. The shock. The joy I hadn’t had time to fully process yet.