“I’ve only ever done weddings,” the photographer says, looking uneasy.
“Keep it modest,” I tell the woman. “Nothing too graphic.”
As she’s turned a shade paler since entering the room, I doubt that’ll be a problem. I hear the click of the camera as she starts taking pictures of Ava. Then, up near Ava’s shoulders, she aims the camera at me. And I realize what a genius my wife is.
We’re going to have photos of me delivering our child. I can’t think of a better memory to have captured in pictures.
And as Ava bears down and I see the top of the baby’s head appear and go through the cardinal movements of labor, I’m transcended into a different man. I’m watching myself from above, an out of body experience, as my daughter slips through the birth canal and I become a father.
Suddenly, Jordan is in my arms. She’s pink and perfect and screaming at the top of her lungs.
Barely able to see her through my tears, I carefully stand up and place her on the waiting blanket on Ava’s chest. I rip off my mask and lean over to kiss my wife. “Great job, Mommy.”
“Mommy,” she blubbers, taking in our daughter. “I never thought this day would come. I’m a mom.”
The quiet awe in her voice slays me as I watch the woman I love become even more beautiful as her dream comes true.
Umbilical cord scissors are handed to me. “Dr. Criss,” Russo says. “Or should I sayDad?Would you like to do the honors?”
I take them. “You bet your ass I would.”
Ava laughs as I untether her from our daughter.
Someone else appears around the curtain. It’s Cam Gordon, a pediatric resident. “I hear there’s been some excitement down here.”
“There has,” Kara says. “Dr. Criss just delivered his own baby.”
Cam’s eyebrows rise. “Well, damn, you really are a jack of all trades. We’re sure going to miss you around here.”
For just a moment, the happiness I’m feeling flickers into something else. But it passes as soon as Cam tells us Jordan looks good, something he’ll confirm when he takes her up for the usual tests.
I sit gently on the bed beside Ava and put an arm around her. “I told you everything would work out.”
The clicks of the camera remind me how every moment is being recorded, and that these pictures will surely become some of the most cherished of my life.
“Let’s move these two up to the maternity ward, shall we?” Russo says.
Ava is transferred to another bed for transport as I pull the curtain aside, ready to help out. But Ava stops me. “Go tell them.” She nods to the front of the ER. “I’m sure there are some people waiting. Your parents, anyway.”
“Some?” the photographer says. “Tryall.” She laughs. “I think the entire town is out there. You two sure are lucky to have such a great group of family and friends.”
Her words wrap around me like a warm blanket, right before sending a dagger into my heart.
“Two minutes,” I say, assuring Ava I won’t be away from them any longer than necessary.
With my phone, I snap a picture of Jordan, now swaddled in a baby blanket and sleeping peacefully. Then I kiss Ava. We smile at each other as the two most important people in my life are slowly wheeled away.
When I push through the doors to the ER waiting room, nobody even notices me. I stand for a moment and take it all in. There are dozens of people, still decked out in their fancy clothes, some eating finger foods off a makeshift buffet table in the corner. They’re all talking, laughing, and reminiscing.
And a fundamental shift occurs inside me. This is our village. Our tribe. Our family. I can’t fucking take her away from this.
Mom notices me and runs over, others swarming after her.
“It’s a girl!” I shout jubilantly.
People whoop and cheer and clap. They all knew it was going to be a girl. But now she’s here. And she’s healthy. And we’re the family Ava always dreamed we’d be.
I show Mom and Dad the picture and then my phone gets passed around from person to person as I quickly tell them about the delivery.
