Page 162 of That Last Secret

“We got this, baby,” he assures me. “I can’t wait to meet this little boy or girl.”

I wrap my arms around him, my round belly sitting right between us. “I still believe it’s a boy.”

“I say we get to the hospital and find out. What do you say?”

I lean in and press my lips to his.

Knowing out lives are about to change forever.

My nerves are through the roof as the bright white lights shine down on me.

My body is numb, and I’m hooked up to a ton of machines monitoring my heart rate and oxygen levels. A drape sits on my chest, obstructing the view of the surgeon and the rest of the operating room.

When we arrived, they confirmed that I didn’t pee myself and my water did in fact break.

Since I wasn’t having any real contractions and wasn’t immediately about the have the baby butt first, they took their time. That alone eased my anxiety.

Having a baby via c-section was not in my plans for ever having a child. When I thought about this early on in my pregnancy, I couldn’t wait for the moment I pushed the baby out and they placed him or her on my chest. When we learned that the baby was upside down and not planning to go anywhere, I felt a piece of that experience ripped from me.

But once I wrapped my head around it, I knew I would do whatever I needed to do to ensure the baby came out safely. Even if it was because I was cut open and baby had to come out through the sunroof.

I turn my head to my left on the table where I see Logan.

He’s holding my hand and dressed in a blue bunny suit with a scrub cap covering his hair for the operating room.

He gives my hand a three pulse squeeze.

I got you.

And I know he does.

The surgeon goes through his pre-procedure checklist with all participants in the room. I hear the monitor pick up as my heart rate accelerates.

“I’m right here, Em. Baby will be here any minute.”

I control my breathing because he’s right.

I lose track of time and I hear a nurse call out ‘baby’ from somewhere in the room right before I hear the faint cries behind the drape blocking my view.

Tears erupt from my eyes.

I turn to look at Logan, squeezing his hand for dear life as he wipes away the tears from his.

“Dad, do you want to do the honors to tell us what your baby is?” the surgeon says behind the drape.

Logan stands from the chair next to me, not releasing his hand in mine before the doctor dips the drape down enough to hold the baby over it.

His other hand moves to cover his face before he looks down at me.

“It’s a baby girl,” Logan cries. He sits down again, bringing his face to mine and pressing kisses to my forehead before traveling to my lips. “You did it, baby. We have a little girl,” he cries harder than I’ve ever seen.

I can’t stop the waterworks coming from me.

I was so sure it was a boy this entire pregnancy, to the point I didn’t even pick a baby girls name.

I turn to my right, and watch as they bring the baby to the warmer to do their assessment and clean her up.

Her.

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