The women in the room froze, then laughed, then cried—sound and motion twisting together like pure, wild joy.
Elle lifted the baby from the warmer, wrapped her in a pink and brown Fendi blanket—courtesy of Krista and Tiana—and placed her on my bare chest.
She was perfect. Fat cheeks, a button nose, and a head full of jet-black curls.
“There’s Daddy’s girl,” Gage whispered, tears sliding slowly down his cheeks.
“He means thebaby, not you, Mahasin,” Amber teased.
Of course, she found the strength to joke—she pulled a soft ripple of laughter from a room full of tear-stained faces.
I tapped my daughter’s nose with a shaky finger. “Hey, little one,” I whispered. “You scared thefuckout of me.”
“Welcome to motherhood,” Elle said gently, and God—her tone held the truth of it.
Amber, still crying and smiling, leaned in closer. “We have to name her Heaven,” she sniffed.
“Miracle,” Krista offered, eyes warm.
“Blessing,” Elle added softly.
I shook my head, smiling, tears still flowing. All I could do was repeatedly thank God. My gaze lifted to Gage’s, but all he saw in that moment was his daughter.
Every name in the room dissolved.
This baby was his gift. His answered prayer. His wish.
He named her before she existed.
“Her name,” I said quietly, “is Snoh.” The room fell still again, this time in peace, not fear. “She’s your Snoh in December,” I whispered, “the one you asked Santa for.” Gage leaned down, forehead against mine, both of us crying, laughing, breathing the same air like we’d never separate.
He kissed me—soft, grateful, trembling. “Thank you, God,” he whispered against my lips. I felt his tears on my face, our daughter’s heavenly baby scent between us, and love all over me. Here, in this room, in this moment, everything I’d ever wanted was mine.
Epilogue
Snoh Blaque (4 years later)
Iwasn’t supposed to be awake, but the music downstairs was too pretty to take a nap through. It floated up the steps and made its way into my bedroom. I stood on the bottom step, trying not to make a peep.
“Shh,” I whispered to my doll baby. She was a good companion at nighttime and always behaved at dance recitals—but was the absolute worst when playing hide-and-go-seek. She’d always askme a random question about nail polish and why Mommy said we weren’t old enough for it. And because I agreed with her logic—my baby dolls, not Mommy’s—I’d have to answer her, and boom, caught. Game over.
From where I stood, I could see Mommy and Daddy in the family room. The lights from the Christmas tree made everything glow lavender and pink. Mommy and Daddy were slowly dancing under their big wedding picture, the one where they were laughing and holding me when I was still a baby.
Mommy always called the song they were dancing to a lullaby. But I didn’t get it. Most of the lullabies I heard didn’t sound like that. They were soft and sleepy, the kind that made you lose the fight with the sandman. This one had a little beat, the kind that made Daddy grab Mommy and hold her tight. But Mommy said it was her favorite. Every time it played, she smiled as if she was remembering something that made her happy a long time ago.
Daddy couldn’t hug her all the way because her tummy was big now. It was where my little brother was growing, and I was excited because I would get to meet him around Valentine’s Day. Mommy said he would be the last baby unless Daddy got a stork to bring the next one because her pregnancies were now labeled “geriatric.” I didn’t know what that meant, but it had to be disgusting because she would curl her lip up when she said it.
The song changed, and Mommy laughed, hiding her face in Daddy’s chest. Her laugh made me giggle too, but I covered my mouth fast so they wouldn’t see me spying. A Christmas bulb fell off the tree, and I watched Daddy go to pick it up and place it back. He arranged at least six bulbs before he was finished, making Mommy smile.
He was always moving things around, and one time he took me shopping for only socks because he said I had too many white ones in my drawer. Which reminded me—I need to get the crazy socks I made for my little cousin Apollo. Auntie Amber andUncle Creed were stopping by tomorrow to sing happy birthday to me, along with my grandmas and grandpas, Uncle Taj, and my two Godfathers, Jason and Desmond.
I wiggled my toes against the step, looking at the shiny banner that said “Happy Birthday Snoh”,in sparkly letters. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Christmas and my birthday mean double gifts. Sometimes I wondered why Mommy and Daddy always got emotional on my birthday. Mommy would always be the first to cry, and Daddy would comfort her.
One time, I asked her why my birthday made her sad, and she told me that they were happy tears, explaining that she would share the story with me when I got older.
“Come here, baby girl.”
Daddy’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
