Page 31 of A Baby for Christmas
"Once more," the doctor instructed for what felt like the hundredth time, but this time, he actually meant it. I heard a baby's cry soon after he said it.Mybaby's cry. And what an incredible feeling that was. I watched the doctor hold our little girl up, watched the nurse whisk her away for a quick check up, and finally watched as the nurse placed our little darling on Robin's chest to snuggle up with herdaddy.
Robin was a daddynow.
And so wasI.
OhGod.
Part of me wanted to celebrate and part of me wanted to scream. The part that wanted to celebrate was a lot bigger,though.
"She's beautiful," Robin said, voice full of awe for the life we had created. "Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've everseen?"
I could only agree. She wasdefinitelythe most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And she wasn't even a thing. She was a brand new little human. A tiny person, complete with ten fingers and ten toes and everything else you needed. I was so blown away by this I couldn't even speak for amoment.
"Do we have a name for the little one?" the nurseasked.
It was only then that I regained myvoice.
"Faith," I told her the name we'd settled on a few weeksago.
"That's a goodname."
"Yeah, it is," Robin said, gently stroking the dark fuzz on our daughter's head. The sight warmed my heart. We both thought Faith was a beautiful name for a baby girl. Besides, it was what enabled us to get to this point. Faith in ourselves and each other. The belief that things would turn out all right in the end. That a thousand paper cranes could change the world, and if not, we'd make it anyway. We'd build our own future, our own destiny from here on out, free from the burdens our parents had settled uswith.
I couldn'twait.
* * *
September was nearingits end and Faith was a couple weeks old already by the time we got the results for the paternity test we'd ordered shortly after her birth. I was as sleep deprived as any new parent while I was getting the mail from the mail box, but the moment I saw the envelope from the testing company, I was wideawake.
Letter in hand, I hurried back inside. Robin had just put our daughter down for a nap, and he looked like he was about to follow her off into dream land, lounging on the couch with his eyes closed. I plopped down beside him and waved the envelope in his face until he snapped his eyesopen.
"What'sthat?"
"Testresults."
In his sleepy state, Robin took a moment to process that statement, and then his eyes widened. "The paternitytest?"
"Yes."
"Have you lookedyet?"
"No. How could I? I haven't even opened the envelope yet." I showed it to himagain.
"Yeah, sorry, my mind isn't working right. It's playing children's lullabies onrepeat."
"It's okay, I getthat."
Robin eyed the envelope, and then me. "You want me to openit?"
"Yes, please." I couldn't do it myself. I was too nervous, even as Cooper hopped up on the couch beside me and proceeded to sit on my lap like the good dog he was, sensing when I wasupset.
Carefully, Robin took the letter from me while I was petting our dog. "I'm not nervous. I already know what it says," he assured me. "I mean, just look at Faith. She's totally got your eyes. Which I love, by theway."
"You really thinkso?"
"Of course I think so! I know my daughter, and I know who her father is." Without further ado, he tore the envelope open and took the sheets of paper out. His eyes flew over the lines of text, showing no sign of hesitation at all. "Yup," he said with a smile. "Says here they're 99% sure you're her dad." Looking at me, he snorted. "99%. Pah. I'm ahundredpercent sure, but this has gotta be enough forCalvin."
"I'm really her dad?" I asked, unable to process anything he'd said afterthat.
