Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Noah?” Peyton’s voice pulls me to the present.
“I’m coming, babe,” I tell her. “Just checking out our boy.” As soon as I sit down next to her again, her eyes fill with tears. “He’s perfect. Look.” I move out of her line of vision so she can see where they’ve taken him. “They’re going to get him cleaned up and then they’ll bring him over to you.”
“Okay.”
We hear more cries and somehow, I know it’s my other son. “Be right back,” I say to Peyton. “Duty calls.”
Baby boy B is small as well and I guess it makes sense. They were crammed in there tightly and Peyton isn’t very big to begin with. Again, I inspect every detail of our middle child. I don’t know what it’s like to be a middle child but I read it can be tough. Not for this guy. I won’t allow it. I’ll have his back, no matter what. Even when his princess of a sister is picking on him.
“He’s perfect, Peyton.” Again, I’m out of the way so she can watch the staff with our son. “One more to go and then they’ll bring them over here.”
Another wail and for whatever reason, a smile spreads across my face. I move to the other side of the screen and glimpse my daughter, our daughter, for the first time. She’s bigger than her brothers, which is comical in the sense Peyton wanted them to protect their little sister. I think it’s going to be a good chunk of years until that happens.
“Peyton, she’s gorgeous.”
“And perfect?”
“Yes, perfect.”
The staff take her from me, and I go back to my wife. “Ah, babe. They’re perfect. With all ten fingers and toes. The boys don’t have any hair, but our daughter does. She looks just like you.”
While they finish putting my wife back together, three nurses come over pushing incubators. Each takes one of the babies out. You can tell they’re pros at this and know exactly how to put all three babies with their mother. Tears stream down my face and while I know she’ll hate me for this now, I take a selfie of my wife with our children.
I sit behind, thankful for the stool on wheels, and rest my chin on her bed. “My god, Peyton, look at what we made.”
“They’re so tiny.”
“Baby A and B are three and a half pounds, which is really good when there are three. Baby girl is four and a half pounds. You did really well, Peyton,” the nurse says.
“Thank you.”
“We’re going to take these kiddos to the NICU. Dad will be able to come up and see them in about thirty minutes. Mom, we’re going to take you to recovery. Dad, you can join her after you’ve notified your family.”
I show Peyton the photo and then kiss her. “Thank you. So much.”
“You helped,” she says, smiling. “I should be the one thanking you.”
“I’m going to go see everyone and then I’ll come to you.”
She shakes her head. “Go to the babies. They need you a bit more than I do right now.”
“Peyton.”
“Please, Noah. I’ll heal faster knowing you’re with them.”
I nod and kiss her again as they start to wheel her out. I don’t bother taking off the paper gown, the hat, or the booties. I’ve seen men do this on TV so many times, I figure why the hell not. Before I go out there and share the amazing news with our families, I pause and lean against the wall, bending at the waist to try and keep my emotions in check. To no avail though because tears stream down my face. I’m over-the-moon happy but I also feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. I’m going to miss Peyton’s bump. I’m going to miss talking to my children and reading them stories. Sure, I’ll be able to talk to them while I hold or feed them, but something hits different knowing I could do that while they were growing inside of her. Like, maybe I had a part in their development, too. I know I have the daily photos, and videos of them babies moving, but pressing my hand to Peyton’s stomach and feeling them kick me is something I miss greatly.
“Are you okay?” I glance at the feet next to me and then stand tall. It’s one of the nurses from Peyton’s delivery room.
“A little overwhelmed.”
“It’s expected. Your wife is in recovery. You can see her.”
“She wants me with the babies.”
The nurse smiles. “Most of them do. I’ll take you to NICU.”
I glance at the door. “I need to tell our family first. They’re waiting.”
The nurse nods and points down the hall. “When you’re ready, I’ll be at the desk there. If I’m not, another nurse will take you. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
After another minute or so, I push my way through the double doors, praying my eyes are not red rimmed. The last thing I want to do is strike fear in Katelyn and Harrison, wondering if their daughter is okay.