"You did good, kid," Maggie tells Emma.
Emma laughs, then winces. Everything still hurts.
"Okay, everyone out," I announce. "Emma needs to rest."
There's a round of gentle hugs, congratulations, and promises to come back tomorrow. The room clears except for us, Gracie, and Graham.
A nurse brings two small bassinets. "You can keep them in here with you tonight if you want. Or we can take them to the nursery so you can sleep."
"Here," Emma and I say at the same time.
The babies are placed in their bassinets next to Emma's bed. Both sleeping now, completely peaceful.
Emma's already dozing off, exhausted beyond measure. I settle into the chair positioned between her bed and the bassinets.
My wife. My daughter. My son.
Emma's hand dangles off the bed toward me. I take it, holding it gently while she sleeps.
Gracie shifts in her bassinet, making a tiny sound. Graham's mouth moves like he's dreaming.
I watch all three of them—Emma's chest rising and falling, Gracie's impossibly small fingers curled into fists, Graham's dark hair sticking up at odd angles.
Eight months ago, Emma was hiding pregnancy tests in her purse. Now we have two babies.
Our family.
I lean back in the chair, still holding Emma's hand, keeping watch over all of them.
This is my job now. Watching over these three humans who are somehow mine.
And I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Epilogue
Emma
Six Weeks Later
Gracie is crying. Graham is crying. I have spit-up in my hair—possibly from yesterday—and Miles is changing a diaper while simultaneously bouncing to soothe. This is our life now, and somehow, despite the chaos and exhaustion, I wouldn't change a thing.
"Got him," Miles announces, lifting Graham from the changing table. "Your turn."
I'm already unbuttoning my shirt for the third feeding in four hours. Gracie latches immediately, her little face scrunched in concentration. Graham settles in Miles' arms with a bottle of pumped milk, his crying fading to whimpers.
"What time is it?" I ask.
Miles checks his watch. "Three AM."
"Again?"
"Still. It's been three AM for approximately six weeks straight."
"That's not how time works."
"Tell that to our children."
Gracie finishes and immediately falls asleep, milk-drunk and content. I burp her carefully, praying she stays asleep long enough for me to close my eyes.
