Page 104 of Wish You Would

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “No more babies then. All I need is the two of you.”

“I’m not joking. You can mark my words. We can get a dog or another cat, but no more babies.”

I laugh because she’s cute as hell. It wouldn’t matter to me if it was just the three of us. I’d never need anything more. Just Briar and our baby boy together under one roof. I fucking love just thinking about that.

I offer Briar water before another contraction hits. Followed by another. And another until Dr. Waterman and Carina are in position at the foot of the bed.

“Let’s have this baby, Briar. I’m going to get you to start pushing,” he says. “Holden, you can help her hold her leg up while Carina has the other. When I tell you to push, Briar, you’re going to push for as long as you can. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers, her eyes locked on the doctor, who has folded the blanket up to her waist. I brace one knee while the nurse holds her other. Briar glances up at me and whispers, “I love you.”

I’m in complete awe of this woman. She’s strong and brave and she looks like a complete goddess.

When another contraction hits her at full force, Dr. Waterman tells her to push. My strong girl bares down, bringing her chin to her chest, and gives it everything she’s got. When she runs out of energy and air, she expels a giant breath, collapsing into the bed.

She pushes again a few minutes later. And again. For the next 20 minutes, the room seems to spin and go silent. Briar keeps pushing. The doctor keeps encouraging her. I hold her knee because it’s the only thing I can do while I pray. All I can hear is the adrenaline coursing through my body.

And then a sharp cry fills the air, and I glance down to see my baby boy in Dr. Waterman’s hands.

A beautiful baby boy.

My Slugger.

THIRTY-ONE

LITTLE MAN

Briar

The smile on my face has been there since midnight, when we welcomed our little man into the world.

He was born on April 25th. Holden’s dad’s birthday. If that was a sign of the man he would become, it was a good one.

Hours have passed, and because he was born in the middle of the night, we’ve had the luxury of it being just the three of us. I’ve napped for 20 minutes here and there and tried to get him to latch on but mostly, I’ve been taking millions of photos. I’m soaking up this quiet time in this tiny room in our little bubble before our friends and family arrive to meet our little boy.

God, I’m exhausted but I’d rather sit here and stare at this perfect little angel. Our son. I’ve heard people say that everything changes the moment you see your baby for the first time, that the world tilts on its axis, that love takes on an entirely new meaning. I never doubted it, but I never reallyunderstoodit either—until now.

Now, as I watch his tiny chest rise and fall, as I memorizethe way his fingers curl instinctively when I brush his palm, I know. This love isn’t like anything else. It’s just bigger—it’s deeper, more consuming, more terrifyingly wonderful than anything I’ve ever felt.

A tear slips down my cheek before I realize it, and I let out a breathy, overwhelmed laugh.

“You okay?” Holden’s voice is gentle, warm.

I nod, shifting slightly so my son nestles closer against my chest. “Yeah. I just…” I swallow, trying to find the right words. “I get it now.”

Holden’s gaze lifts to mine, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it. There’s something in his eyes—a quiet awe, maybe, or just the same overwhelming love that’s currently flooding every inch of my body.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “Me too.”

Holden is squished into the hospital bed next to me gazing down at Slugger nestled in my arms. He’s wrapped in a swaddle with little baseballs all over it, a tiny hat with a knot on the top covering his light brown hair. All 5 pounds of him. He already looks so much like Holden, it makes my heart burst. The slope of his tiny nose, the pucker of his full lips. He even has a little frown that reminds me of Holden’s expression when he’s in a deep sleep. He’s the sweetest little thing in the world.

Thankfully, he’s healthy. After being in my arms for only a minute, he was whisked away by the nurse for evaluation. She explained that she needed to check his heart rate, temperature, and breathing in case he needed additional oxygen support. Twenty minutes later he was back in my arms.

“What should we name him?” I ask, staring down at him with teary eyes.

“I thought we agreed on Slugger, but if you’ve changed your mind, now’s the time to tell me.” Holden brushes a finger over our son’s bottom lip.

“He will always be our little Slugger, but I was thinking about Hayes Holden Banks. He would have the same initials as his daddy.”

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