Page 62 of Before You Can Blink
“I know. But you have to keep pushing through it. That’s the only way to make it stop.”
With her trembling from head to toe, I could see the visible strain of the effort necessary to push through the pain.
“Head’s all the way out,” I declared, letting her know she was right at the finish line, as my hands extended to cradle the tiny skull that was nearly the size of my palm. “Just a little more, and we’ll have a baby.”
Harsh exhales sounded as Daisy tried to catch her breath between the contraction that had just passed and the next one, which would hopefully also be the last. When her muscles tensed once more, I poured all my concentration into not dropping the slippery little sucker when it slid from her warmth, and she sagged in relief against the haybale at her back.
The soul-crushing weight lifted off my chest at the shrill cry that came from the baby in my arms. Without hesitation, I handedhimover to Daisy, remarking, “Guess your intuition was right.”
“Huh?” Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused. Most likely, she’d been running on pure adrenaline, and now her brain was struggling to process our extremely fast unassisted home birth, in a barn of all places.
That thought had a chuckle floating past my lips. We really came full circle on this pregnancy with it beginning and ending in this damn barn.
“It’s a boy, Daze,” I announced. “Just like you said it would be.” I pulled the T-shirt that hung from my back pocket to cover his back and keep him warm while we waited for help to arrive.
“A boy.” She finally peeked down at the infant resting atop her chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and a soft smile touched her lips when she lifted her gaze to meet mine. “I know we decided on Alan if it was a boy, but I was thinking maybe we could go with Tripp instead. After Murph.”
My breathing hitched, and my heart swelled at my wife’s incredibly thoughtful suggestion. I couldn’t think of a better way of honoring my fallen friend than by naming our son after him.
Voice thick, I nodded. “Tripp. Yeah, I like that.”
Shifting so that I sat by her side, I curled one arm around her back while the other came to rest over the little life we’d created. Holding two of the three pieces of my heart close, I kissed Daisy’s lips. Then I sent up a silent prayer to my boy’s new guardian angel, asking that he look out for him, just as he had always done for me.
I knew Murph wouldn’t let me down.
Chapter 9
Jett
Age 27
August
Thepiercingcriesofmy infant son floated up toward the night sky as I bounced him in a futile attempt at calming whatever ailed him. He had a strong set of lungs, and the only time he wasn’t putting them to use was when his mouth was firmly affixed to his mother’s breast.
“Come on, bud. You gotta let your mama get some sleep.”
Forget that I was running on fumes; my exhaustion didn’t hold a candle to Daisy’s. Her body was still recovering from delivering a nine-pound baby that had ripped her lower half to shreds, without the help of pain meds. And that was before you considered that our baby boy was literally sucking the life out of her, demanding to be nursed at all hours of the day and night.
“Might as well bring him in,” Daisy’s weary voice called out from the open door of the cabin.
I hiked Tripp onto my shoulder. “Go back to bed. I’ll take him further away so you can’t hear him.”
She sighed. “Jett, you need sleep too.” I opened my mouth to protest, but it slammed shut again when she pointed a finger in my direction, warning, “And don’t you dare lie to me and say that you don’t. It’s been two weeks of this. Neither of us are any good to the kids if we’re falling asleep standing.”
“All that’s gonna happen if I bring him inside is he’ll wake Aspen,” I countered.
Daisy’s lips curved into a sad smile. “You’re right. But that just means we have to give him what he wants, or we all suffer.”
I arched an eyebrow. “How you fixin’ to do that?”
Barefoot, she descended the porch steps and walked across the grass to where I stood. Easing Tripp from my hold into hers, she used one hand to pull down the neckline of her nightgown to free her breast, and within seconds, his wails were replaced with the sound of greedy sucking.
Tilting her head toward the cabin, she said, “Come on.”
I knew better than to argue, so I followed her inside, latching the door behind us. By the time I turned around, she’d already eased onto the mattress, lying on her side with Tripp cradled to her chest as he nursed noisily.
“Lie down, Jett,” she beckoned me over with a drowsy whisper.
