Page 103 of Only for Tonight
He looks so tiny on his chest, even though he was born nine pounds fourteen ounces. He came out with a vengeance, if you ask me. The minute Jaxon slipped the engagement ring on my finger, I stood up and my water had, in fact, broken because it gushed right on his feet. It was as if he was waiting for his father to get his shit in order so he could make his appearance.
Our parents tried to stay calm, but it was like herding five-year-olds on the first day of school. Jaxon snapped and gave each of them duties. One set of parents were to go to our house and get the hospital bags, while the other set of parents had to drive the car. It really was the four of them going in one car, but it had them with a mission. My mother had this look on her face and my father looked like he was going to pass out at any given moment. I guess considering my own birth mother died in childbirth, this was a big step for him. He almost refused to let me go. By the end of maybe a minute of him telling me how much he loved me, Manning put a hand around his shoulder and led him away from me. “She’s going to be fine,” he told him. “Jaxon will make sure of it.”
Jaxon got me to the hospital and wheeled me into labor and delivery, which was a breeze. I literally had the thought that I could do this, no problem. This was what my body was made to do. That was what all the books said. It’s what all the blog posts wrote. Your body was made to do this. It knows what to do. That was my mindset going into this thing. It was a mind over matter. The contractions felt like period cramps at first and I, for some ungodly reason, thought I could do this without drugs.
Well, my son said “not so fast.” The minute I got undressed and put on that beautiful, sexy blue hospital gown, got into bed—breathing in and out like they said to do—got hooked up to the monitor so they could monitor the laboring, my son said, “hold my bottle of milk” and it was like a knife was inserted into my vagina and straight to my stomach. The burning, my God the burning, felt like I was being roasted by a lit flame. I had never in my life felt that much pain. Jaxon was, to say the very least, beside himself and ready to strangle anyone who wouldn’t listen to my pleas for drugs. Any drugs. The problem was, the anesthesiologist was in the operating room with a heart patient and couldn’t leave and the backup one was stuck in traffic. The sounds that came out of me were something I’ve never heard before. They were feral from what my parents said, they could hear me in the waiting room, which just made my father even more stressed. He was one step away from getting a helicopter to find the anesthesiologist stuck in traffic and have him flown in for me.
The contractions were on top of each other, giving me barely a chance to get ready for the next one. Apparently, our son had gotten the notice it was time to vacate. He was ready to get the fuck out of my uterus and he was waiting for no one, and I mean no one. The doctor barely made it in the door before the nurse was telling me the baby was crowning, something I had no fucking idea what that meant. But after forty-seven minutes, I felt that I had just done a triathlon, and the doctor looked at me and said, “If you don’t push him out now, we’re going to have to do an emergency C-section.”
Again, our son was ready to come when he was ready to come, and three pushes later, he was out. I can’t describe to you what it feels like to hold your child on your chest, watching him take his first breaths. You feel this overwhelming sense of love that is just so big you thought it couldn’t exist, until it does. Or so I thought. When you see the man you love take the child you made together in his arms and take off his shirt, so they can do skin-to-skin, that is when you have this sense you are going to do whatever it is in your power to make them both happy.
If anyone had brought in someone who could have married us, I would have married him there on the spot. I didn’t tell him that though because, knowing him and our parents, it would have happened.
When our parents came into the room to meet him, Evelyn and my mother went straight to the baby, with Manning trailing right behind them. But my father, my father came straight to me. Tears were in his eyes, and when he took me in his arms, letting out the biggest sigh of relief. He was the last one to hold the baby, happy to just hold my hand and watch everyone else. But the minute he held my son in his arms, he looked at me with tears in his eyes. “You did good.” It's a look and those are words that I’ll always remember.
I lean against the doorjamb. “What are you two doing?” I ask him and he looks over at me.
“I heard him fussing,” Jaxon whispers softly, “and thought I would rock him for a bit and let you sleep.”
“You are going to spoil him,” I tell him. I can see his soft smile in the room and he bends to kiss the black hair on our son’s head. Hair just like Daddy, eyes just like Daddy. He’s his father’s son, and there is no doubt about that.
“I’ve hardly held him.” He looks back up at me. “I never get him. People are always hogging him.” He rubs his big hands over his back. “If he’s not in one of our parents’ arms, he’s in your arms.”
“That’s because I have the goods.” I point to my breasts. “He’s a big boy and needs to eat a lot, apparently.”
“I don’t get any time with him if I don’t get to rock him.” I roll my eyes when he says that.
“The minute he unlatches from me, you take him away from me.” I point at him. “It’s a good thing you have summer break.”
He chuckles. “It’s almost like we planned it.” I walk to him and stand beside the rocking chair. Seeing Jagger curled into a ball on his chest, his big hand under his small bum, while his other hand comes out to rub the back of my legs. “I’m going to get another bassinet,” he says to me, “so we can have him in our room.”
“Or how about we just bring the bassinet upstairs at night?” I shake my head. “We don’t need more baby gear. Our parents already have one of everything in their houses, just in case.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and lean down to kiss our son’s soft head before I kiss Jaxon’s lips. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“Sleep deprived,” I admit to him, “but couldn’t be more happy.” He reaches for my hand that has my ring on it, bringing it to his lips.
“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” he urges softly. “I’ll bring him in when he’s hungry.”
“Or you put him down,” I counter, “and come and hold me.” He looks at our son and then looks at me. “Wow, you even have to think about it, Jaxon Stevenson?”
“Baby, why don’t we bring him with us”—he gets up and I shake my head—“I’ll go get the bassinet and we can place him by the bed.”
“That means you are going to have to put him down to get the bassinet,” I tell him and he looks over at the crib and then down at his son.
“Okay, how about I just stay here and you can go back to bed,” he suggests, and I lean to kiss his lips and then kiss our son.
“I’m going to go and take a shower.” I turn to walk out of the bedroom. The idea of taking a shower now is the only thing I can think of.
“What if he wakes up and you are still in there?” The panic sets into his voice.
“I’m sure you’ll handle it,” I throw over my shoulder and walk away from them. It takes me a full thirty minutes in the shower and I even have time to wash my hair and then comb it out. I literally feel like a brand-new woman when I walk out of the bathroom and head to the closet, when I hear Jaxon’s voice coming from the monitor.
“We are going to change your diaper and then go in search of the goods,” he coos and I hear my son grunting.
I head over to my drawer full of lounge wear that my aunt had shipped to me the week before I gave birth. I pull on a pair of light gray lounge pants before slipping on one of my white nursing tanks, then grabbing the matching short light robe with wide sleeves. I walk out of the closet at the same time as Jaxon walks into the bedroom.
“There she is,” he announces to our son, who is now sounding like a squawking bird. “I told you she was coming.”
