Page 142 of Through You
Alex does his best to sound puzzled.
Artemis coughs into his hand and mumbles, “Coward.”
“I heard you. You’re not my boss and I can kick your ass.”
“My apologies, Mr. CEO of Hidalgo Enterprises,” I joke.
“Don’t encourage him, Claudia. I need someone in my corner.”
I push against the arms of my chair to lift myself back up to my feet.
But when I straighten, I feel a warm liquid roll down my inner thigh and drip on the floor. Everyone looks at me in shock.
“Oh.” It’s all I can say. “I think my water broke.”
Then everything turns into chaos. Artemis keeps asking if I’m doing okay every other second. Gin and Alex are pacing from one side of the room to the other. I hold my belly with one hand and reach for Artemis with the other for support as we make our way out of the room and down the stairs. Ares and Apolo look up.
Gin is hot on our heels, and she screams at them. “The baby!
She’s coming!”
The chaos intensifies. My mom, Grandpa, and Mr. Juan come out of the kitchen where they were preparing the meat for the barbecue.
Everyone is trying to talk to me and calm me down at the same time. Meanwhile, they’re the ones who have lost their minds.
“I’m fine,” I keep repeating.
The ride to the hospital is much quicker than I expected.
Upon our arrival, we check in and fill out the paperwork.
Although I can walk, they put me in a wheelchair.
I wish I could say that the entire birthing experience is wonderful. At first I thought being exposed to a team of doctors would be uncomfortable. Modesty, however, is far from my mind at this moment. Everything becomes irrelevant when all you want is to bring your daughter into this world, and for the pain of labor to end.
Artemis holds my hand the entire time. He looks so pale anyone would think he was the one giving birth.
“Come on, Claudia. One more push.” Dr. Diaz encourages me. I make an effort to push while holding my breath. “Hold it.
Hold it. Just like that. Good, nice.”
I put all my remaining strength into my last push to get this baby out. I’m out of breath, light-headed, with nothing left. But none of that matters when I hear my daughter’s cries. Dr. Diaz cleans her before placing her in my arms, and I can’t keep back my tears. I’ve never felt love for someone this way, so deep and fast. Artemis leans over, and his eyes are wet. He strokes the tiny head of our baby with such gentleness, as if she’s a delicate treasure so fragile she could break from his touch.
“Hello. Hi, my love,” I whisper between sobs. “Welcome to the world, Hera Hidalgo.”
Artemis kisses her forehead before giving me a quick peck.
When he pulls away, he gazes at me with eyes that gleam with affection, and for the first time I’m ready to fully reciprocate what I see in them.
“I love you, Artemis.”
I’m no longer afraid. These are the words I’ve heard from his lips every day these past months. The ones I’ve heard him whisper to my belly. Now, when I hear these words in his voice, I think only of the kind boy I grew up with and this beautiful baby in my arms. Artemis smiles at me.
“I know, my precious.” He says this without a hint of arrogance, sounding more like the words are confirmation of a truth he’s known all along. A truth I don’t need to explain because he’s aware of how hard it is for me to put into words what this all means to me. “I love you, too, Claudia.”
I’m discharged on the third day. And Hera becomes the center of attention at the Hidalgo house. Everyone fights over who gets to hold her, who gets to change her diaper, and who gets to put her to sleep. It’s quite clear that her being the first Hidalgo girl is a monumental occasion. On the upside, their generous assistance affords Artemis and me the chance to rest on occasion.
Hera is a beautiful baby. The color of the sparse hair on her tiny head is brown. Her facial features are adorable, and her eyes are blue, though the eye color of babies tends to change with time. I didn’t expect her eyes would turn out to be this shade.
