Page 95 of Never Really Mine
“You’re so amazing,” Beau says for what feels like the hundredth time today, but I believe him, because I did that. I made and grew two humans.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For this, for being you. For loving me.”
“I’ll never stop,” he says.
“We still don’t have names,”I say to Beau as he folds a blanket, putting it in a bag. Baby Boy is latched onto my right breast, and Baby Girl, freshly off any tubes or monitors, is in a small bassinet beside my bed. We’re being discharged in a few hours, and we’re determined to name them before we leave. It’s been a long two days, but our girl is a fighter. She had a few rough hours when she was needing more oxygen and care, but overall, she’s doing great. Breastfeeding is a challenge, especially with two, but I want to give it my best go. I’m planning on pumping, that way Beau can feed one with a bottle, and I can feed the other with my breast.
It’s nice being just the two of us today. Ever since we knew that Baby Girl was going to be fine, it’s been a revolving door of our parents and family. Not that we’ve minded. It’s been so nice to see how much love everyone has for them, and us, but it’s good to have a break. I’m ready to get home and figure out our new normal.
“What about Arlo for him?” he asks. He steps forward, reaching down and lifting Baby Girl from the bassinet. She squirms, letting out a whimper of displeasure, but calms immediately when she feels the warmth of Beau’s chest. He’s been walking around shirtless ever since they were born, determined to have as much skin to skin time with them as possible. I don’t mind. Seeing him shirtless, with the tattoo he got for us on his shoulder, makes my heart jitter every time Isee it. There’s also nothing sexier than seeing the man I love, my best friend, being a father to our children. Watching him do it shirtless is just a bonus.
I look down at the little pink cheeks of our son. He looks so much like Beau, it’s crazy. He’s right, though. He does look like an Arlo.
“Arlo Earl Cunningham,” I say, never taking my eyes off him. It feels right.
Beau stands, cradling Baby Girl in his arms. I gently scoot over in the bed, well aware of my sore and battered vagina. I wince slightly, but Beau doesn’t notice, thankfully. He would immediately demand to try and help me, but there isn’t really much he can do.
He slowly sits on the bed beside me. He gazes over at our boy, and nods. “Yeah. That’s it.” He kisses me quickly. “Now we just have to name this hell-raiser.”
The nickname might stick. Since birth, she’s been nothing but trouble. Arlo—it feels weird, in a good way to refer to him as his name—has been nothing but calm. Only crying when we take him out of his blankets to change him. The complete opposite of what he was like during my pregnancy.
“What about Ariel? Arlo and Ariel,” I offer.
Beau glances down at the bundle in his arms, and I do the same, looking at my sweet girl. Her cheeks are chubby and flushed pink, soft blush lips opened in a smallo.
“Yeah. That feels perfect. Ariel Ruby? For your grandma?”
“Ariel Ruby Cunningham.” I smile. “It’s perfect. They’re perfect.”
I rest my head on Beau’s shoulder, glancing down at the little ones who helped make us a family.
“Fuck, I love you so much,” Beau says with a gust of air. “I can’t believe this.”
“I love you so much.”
56
MARLEY
Beau flops down on the couch next to me, having just set Arlo down in the bassinet beside us. Ariel is latched onto my breast, suckling happily. This has been exhausting, but we’re doing it. We are successfully being parents. They had their two week check-up this morning, and are both gaining weight as they should be.
My mom is asleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, having spent last night here, taking a shift so Beau and I could sleep for longer than two hours at a time. Everyone has been so incredibly helpful, but also giving us our space when we need it. Ariel slowly falls asleep, her mouth falling off my nipple.
I adjust her, and cover my breast with my nursing bra. Beau takes her from my arms, resting her on his shoulder to pat her back and burp her.
A few pats and a large belch later, she’s sound asleep, and Beau places her in the second bassinet next to me. I lean back onto the couch, giving myself a minute to breathe before I do my evening pumping session. One of my breasts hurts and I’m worried I might be getting mastitis. It’s achy and hot, and the thought of anyone touching it right now hurts more thananything. When I pumped earlier, almost nothing came out, making me think there’s a clogged duct. Beau scoots in close, pulling me against him. I let myself sink into his embrace, needing his touch.
“I can’t believe asking you to dance at a wedding would bring us here,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to the top of my head.
“Pretty sure it was you chasing after me that changed the path of our lives, but yeah. You’re right. It’s pretty crazy.”
There’s a soft knock on the front door, my dad’s voice softly calling as he enters the house. “Hey Dad,” I greet him as he walks up the stairs.
“How ya doing, kids?” he asks. He glances at Beau and me, snuggled up on the couch, and the babies in their bassinets beside us. He smiles softly, a knowing affection in his gaze.
“Good,” I say through a yawn. “Mom is sleeping in the guest room.”
Dad nods. “I’ll let her sleep for a bit. Do you guys need anything?”
