Wynn
"I can't do this." My voice is thin and breathless as I cling to Cole's firm hand, the contractions so incessantly painful that I'm nearly numb to their effects. I've got to be crushing his fingers, but he makes no effort to pull away. Instead, he brushes a stray tear from my cheek, his maddening calm causing my anger to spike.
"You can, and you will." His ardent determination and the simplicity of the sentiment make me want to sock him in the face and also smother it with kisses.
Needless to say, I'm not in the best state of mind right now.
"Breathe, sweetheart. It's almost over." He eyes the monitor, tracking my current contraction to its end.
"We're going to begin pushing with the next one," Doctor Hollister says. She was here within minutes of the staff reporting it was baby time for the Galloway's, despite the fact that she wasn't on call today. I might be reluctantly impressed if I weren't in so much agony.
"'Kay," I grunt, repositioning myself on my elbows, though nothing I've done thus far has alleviated my discomfort. The prospect of holding Lyla in my arms has me ready for action, even if I am in doubt of my ability to survive the means of her arrival.
"Ready?" Cole nods toward the screen, indicating the beginning of another dreaded contraction.
"No! Why-- I just had one!"
Dr. Hollister chuckles. "You're in active labor, Wynona. You'll have them every minute or so until you deliver."
"Hell to the-- ohhh!" The tedious clenching of my abdomen silences my sass, giving way to a surprising desire: I push without being coached. Like a woman possessed I bear down, every muscle in my body burning with tension.
"I see her," Dr. Hollister chirps. "Keep pushing!"
And I do, for what feels like days. In fact, I'm ever more convinced that I'm going to die like this-- fatigued beyond measure, desperate with thirst and strained to the point of my demise. What a way to go, though.
"This is the one," Cole says, startling me out of my pit of despair. "One more push and we meet our little girl." He runs his hand over my sweaty forehead, brushing the sticky hair out of my eyes.
"You're gonna be a single daddy." I shake my head, willing away a torrent of tears. "I'm not gonna last much longer."
"You're so strong, Nono, do you know that?" He smiles, his eyes bright with moisture. "It's no wonder God put women in charge of childbirth. No man could ever handle this shit."
"I second that," Dr. Hollister agrees from where she's perched at the foot of the bed. "Now, give me all you've got. Let's get this baby out!"
Somehow, I kick it into high gear, finding a new level of determination. Cole's faith in me awes me to no end, his quiet murmurs of encouragement bolstering my strength and energy. The sudden surge in pressure is damn near incapacitating, but I'm relentless-- just stubborn enough to make it happen.
An acute sense of relief follows, and I realize I've done it.
She's here.
Lyla's angry cries fill the room as Dr. Hollister places her on the exposed skin of my chest, and I'm filled with a level of emotion so profound that I'm unable to speak. I wrap her in my arms, humming softly as she wriggles in my embrace.
Cole places his hand carefully on her fuzzy little head, cooing with pride as he takes in her tiny form. "Perfect," he utters, kissing my temple. "She's absolutely perfect, babe. And you were amazing. I don't know how you did it."
"Neither do I," I admit. "But I'm glad it's over."
Cole climbs onto the bed, joining me as I cradle Lyla, enjoying her warmth and the feel of her soft skin against mine. Her crying eventually gives way to sleep, and I don't blame her one bit. I'm probably as tired from her dramatic entry into this world as she is.
When the nurses finally manage to wrest her from my hold, they clean her up a bit and swaddle her in a pastel pink and white blanket, finishing off her first ensemble with a headband adorned with a fuchsia flower.
"Daddy's turn?" Nurse Kelly asks, gesturing toward Cole. I nod and he looks startled, realizing that it's his turn to hold his daughter.
"You'd better get used to it, Galloway." I giggle at his bewildered face as he takes Lyla in his arms, certain that he's never been more attractive to me than he is in this moment. The low slung jeans, plain white tee, and day-old scruff are undeniably hot, but it's the way he's looking at our little girl that has me appreciating him in a whole new light.
The boy is smitten, and so am I.
********
"Are they still behind us?"
"They'd never dream of diverting, Nono." Cole eyes the rearview mirror, a subtle smirk playing on his face. "Nobody wants to be subjected to your wrath, least of all Wyatt and Colby."
"Good," I assert smugly, pleased with my ironclad plan to get Lyla safely home. With Wyatt following closely behind us, we're certain to avoid being rear-ended. I might've demanded an escort in front, too, but that was where Cole drew the line.
We pull into our apartment complex's overcrowded lot, slowly picking our way over to our place near the back. When we roll up, I'm completely overcome by the explosion of pink, purple, and white balloons, streamers and signs. Climbing out of the car, I make a beeline for Colby's awaiting embrace, my tears cascading down my face and onto her shoulder.
"You guys shouldn't have!" I squeak. "Lyla is going to love it!"
"I'm sure she will." Colby giggles. "You're a little emotional still, aren't you?"
I wipe the tears from beneath my lashes as I step away, noticing with only a small amount of amusement my husband nodding in assent. When he catches me watching, he quickly shakes his head instead, eyes wide and earnest.
Looks like he's afraid of my wrath, too.
"Oh, come on you guys," I say, reaching into the back of the car to retrieve Lyla from her car seat. "I'm not that bad."
"The hell you aren't," Wyatt mutters as he helps Cole unload all of the loot we came home with. "Colby shrieked every time Cole tapped the brakes just to be certain I wouldn't make any mistakes. It was a team effort getting y'all home."
I chuckle, picturing the scene in vivid detail and drawing a sardonic smirk from my hulking helper. I couldn't ask for better friends.
The boys fill their arms with various bags of goodies from the hospital and all of our luggage, making their way to the apartment. Colby bashes her shoulder into the stubborn door three times before it finally bursts open, and the four of us set about finding floor space for all of our newly acquired swag.
"Good grief! Y'all could use a whole other apartment for all of Lyla's things," Colby says, doing her best to make the piles of stuff look tidy.
"Don't worry about that, B," I say, carefully settling Lyla against my shoulder. "We won't be here much longer. At least our new place near campus has two bedrooms."
"It's gonna be so great! I can't wait to help you decorate!" Colby pats Lyla's back softly, her excitement for all of our new beginnings contagious. "It'll be so much cuter than my crappy little dorm."
"And speaking of," Wyatt interrupts. "You still have a lot of packing to do. We should go."
"What do you mean?" I demand. "We aren't moving for another month! Stay here and get to know your goddaughter."
"Oh, umm... Wyatt's right," Colby agrees, eyeing her beloved as something conspiratorial passes between them. Colby kisses the top of Lyla's head. "I'll see you later, sweet girl!"
"Good luck with everything, man," Wyatt says, giving Cole's hand a shake before heading toward the exit with Colby in tow. "We'll pop in and make sure you're all still alive tomorrow." He nods, ducking out the doorway and closing the door behind them.
Ordinarily, a comment like that wouldn't cause me to burst into tears. Unfortunately for Cole, these are not ordinary times. I collapse onto the couch, cradling Lyla in my arms as I melt into a puddle of blubbering hormones all over the brand new furnishings.
"What's wrong?" Cole drops onto the cushion beside me, his face etched with worry. "Are you uncomfortable? Need some of your pain meds?"
"No, no..." I sniff, wiping the sleeve of my shirt under my nose to clear away some of my outburst. "It's just...why did they let us leave with this?" I watch Lyla intently, baffled as to how I could be trusted to up and walk away with such precious cargo.
"She's our daughter, sweetheart," Cole says, smiling in a way that tells me he finds my hysterics endearing rather than insane. "It's a lot to wrap my head around, I'll give you that. But we've got this."
"How can you be so certain?"
"You're a natural." He wraps an arm around my shoulders before rubbing Lyla's downy dark hair. "And sure, we have a lot to learn, but we'll do it together."
"I wish Wyatt and Colby had stayed. We need all the help we can get."
"I told them to leave us," Cole says, bringing me up short.
I stare at him, shocked by his admission. "Why would you do that? We have no clue what we're doing!"
"Do you honestly think they know any more than we do?" He meets my eyes, and there's no real challenge there--only love and determination. "We need to figure this out on our own, Nono. Lyla is our responsibility, and while I still can't believe I'm a father..."
"Or me, a flippin' mother..."
"We're doing this," he says, kissing my cheek before running his fingers through the length of my hair. "We'll be the best damn parents this world has ever seen."
"Is that so?" His assertion has me grinning like an idiot and feeling vastly greater confidence than I felt only moments ago.
"Hell, yes. We're gonna rock this parenting shit, you and me."
"Galloway! Your language!" I hiss, doing my best to cover Lyla's tiny ears. "Not around the baby!"
"Dammit--I mean...shoot! I'm sorry, Lyly." He takes our still sleeping daughter in his strong arms. "I guess I have a ways to go," he says, his eyes sparkling with humor as well as embarrassment.
"Don't we both," I agree.
Cole and I set about negotiating our new normal, which takes far longer than I'd have ever anticipated. When adding up all of the times we were derailed in our efforts by feedings, diaper changes, and general anger in the form of fitful crying from our bundle of joy, I find myself wondering how any parent can get anything at all done in their day. It's a precarious balancing act, with one tiny little life at the center of our universe.
We'll learn eventually, I suppose.
After a delicious dinner care of Mari and Nash, we settle in for the night, with the three of us taking up residence in the living room for a bit of television before bed. We're not there for more than five minutes when I spy my husband passed out where he's sprawled at the end of the couch.
I shake my head, smiling at the perfectly beautiful boy who gave me the perfectly beautiful girl nestled in my embrace. My life is better than any fairy tale, and it's only just begun.
I tuck Lyla closely to my chest. "Welcome home, little lady."