Hours later, everything changed.
Around midnight, the delivery room was suddenly filled with nurses. The doctor began giving instructions. Caleb was beside me, his expression a mixture of terror and amazement.
And then I heard it.
Crying
It’s not mine
To the water
Our daughter had arrived.
His scream was loud, furious, and wonderfully vibrant.
Caleb rested his forehead against mine.
“She is here.”
I started to sob
“She really is here.”
A nurse briefly placed her against my chest before taking her to the warming area for routine checks.
Alright?
“He’s doing wonderfully.”
Caleb remained undecided between the baby and me.
—Go see her—I told him.
He approached
From where I was lying down, I couldn’t see much of our daughter.
But I could see Caleb’s expression.
She was crying openly.
Then he leaned closer.
“Oh, wow.”
That?
He glanced at me sideways.
“It has this small mark.”
What type?
“Dark. Oval. Near the collarbone. It looks as if someone pressed a thumb on fresh paint.”
