Page 143 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“We have a name.” I smile proudly.
“We have a name,” she echoes.
“All right, Harlow, it’s almost time to push and meet your baby,” one of the nurses says as her and another scurry about the room to prepare it for delivery.
Harlow’s panicked eyes meet mine. “I’m scared. How am I going to push a baby out of me?”
“You’re going to do it because you’re strong and can do anything and you want to meet your baby.”
She nods at my words of encouragement.
The nurse goes over the basics of how to push and then has her do a few practice ones before calling for the doctor.
“Dad, you come over here and hold Mom’s leg,” the nurse directs.
Hearing myself called Dad is jarring to say the least. I do as I’m directed though, holding Harlow’s leg up.
“Contraction’s coming up,” the nurse warns. “Now, push.”
Harlow bears down, her face scrunched as she pushes.
When they tell her to lie back and take a breath, she says, “Did anything happen?”
“A little bit,” the nurse lies, because from my perspective a big fat nothing happened.
It goes like that for a while, Harlow pushing and not a lot happening from what I can see. But suddenly, things seem to shift, and I glimpse the head.
“You’re getting close,” the doctor encourages. “I can see your baby’s head.”
“You can?” Harlow gasps. She looks to me with tired eyes. Her hair is sweaty, and she looks exhausted, but I swear she’s never been more beautiful.
“I can see it,” I promise her. “We’re so close to meeting our baby.”
With renewed energy, Harlow pushes again and again until a tiny, squirming baby covered in blood and goo is placed on her chest.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she chants over and over again in shock. Her hands flutter around the baby, not seeming to know where to touch first.
The baby isn’t crying, though and that scares me, but then a nurse is suctioning stuff out of its mouth, and it finally gives that mighty cry I was waiting for.
“Is it a boy or girl?” Harlow asks me.
“Huh?” I’m too dumbfounded to process her words. That’s our baby there on her chest. It’s here and it’s real.
“Is it a boy or girl?” she asks again.
I lift the baby’s leg to check. “It’s a girl,” I cry, kissing Harlow. “We have a daughter.” I kiss her again.
Harlow sobs and we both look like complete blubbering messes, but I don’t care. I just witnessed the most incredible thing I know I’ll ever see in my life. There’s no way anything can compare to the birth of our child.
“Dad, do you want to cut the umbilical cord?”
I give a watery nod in the direction of the nurse asking. She hands me a pair of surgical scissors, and I cut where she tells me to.
“I’m going to take baby now, Mama, so I can weigh and measure her. But she’ll be right back, promise.”
I can tell Harlow doesn’t want to let go, but she also knows the nurse has to do her job.
“Keep an eye on the baby,” she tells me. “Please.” She gives my arm a shove, encouraging me to head over to where the nurse tends to the baby.
