“Oh, good, the father’s here. Come step in for me, Dad, so I can focus on Mom’s head while you coach her through giving birth, Dr. Carson.” I could have kissed Dr. Macon. Honestly, I was certain a few of the nurses wanted to do the same, but in a much dirtier way. He was very handsome. That was negated for me by the fact that he had drilled a hole in my head.
“Ridge,” I called again and before the next contraction swept through me, he was there, pulling my leg back, talking gently to me, and assuring me that everything would be okay.
For the first time in seven months, I believed him. There was still a lot to go through, healing to do, and a certain psycho woman to deal with, but for the first time in nearly a year, I believed that there might be a better future in the works for my baby and me.
“One more, that’s it. A little longer.” Dr. Carson didn’t need to tell me I could relax after that push. I felt the moment my baby slipped free of my body. Ridge gasped and held on tight to my thigh until Dr. Macon pulled him back away from me a bit.
“Her arm is broken. You need to make sure you aren’t pressing into her there.”
Ridge startled and looked down to see that my arm was indeed in a sling. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head and looked to the doctor. “Well, what is it?” I asked.
“Oh, right! I forgot you didn’t want to know until now. You have a healthy baby boy.”
“A boy,” Ridge repeated. “We have a son!” The awe in his voice was something I would play on repeat in my mind for months to come.
“Dad, why don’t you come over to this side and help Mom hold her baby, since she only has one arm working at the moment?” One of the nurses made way for Ridge to swap to my left side where I didn’t have a broken arm but still had a hole in my head.
“I am going to re-wrap your head for you in just a few minutes,” Mr. Macon assured me from the head of the bed, where he had stationed himself to keep an eye on my wound once my husband came into the room.
When our son was put in my arms, I immediately began to cry. He looked absolutely perfect. “Liam Thomas Westover, welcome to the world,” I said to him.
“That’s the name we picked,” Ridge whispered. I looked up and nodded as I watched a tear slip free from his eye and run down his cheek. We had picked a favorite boy name and girl name back when we first started to try for a baby. I never even thought about any other names in all the time in between.
After we were moved back to my room with the baby, my father and brother were allowed to come back to meet our son. It was so amazing to have my family together for one beautiful moment. “Did you call your parents?” I asked, then added, “or Moreland?”
Ridge shook his head. “I need to.”
“I called Garret and Evelyn. Chances are they informed everyone else. They should be here soon.”
My brother yawned again despite his infatuation with my newborn son; it was clear that he was tired. “Dad, you should take Drake back.”
“No, why?” Drake asked as his mouth opened into another cavernous yawn. “Okay, I get it. I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
“You’re healing, idiot. You need rest to do that. I’m sure they’ll let you come back tomorrow.”
“Okay. Love you, sis. Love you, too, squirt.” My brother leaned down and kissed my son’s forehead before my father said his goodbyes to us and made his way out.
“Where is your mom?” Ridge asked.
I shrugged. “Not sure. Something happened while I was in surgery, and no one will tell me what she did, but Drake is super angry with her. Do you know?”
“I do, but I think it should come from our family, not me.”
I thought about challenging that and throwing in Ridge’s face that he was keeping more secrets from me, but that wasn’t fair. I was emotional, overly so according to the doctors who warned me that between the concussion, surgery, and giving birth, I might experience wild swings in mood. It was something I tried to keep in mind before I reacted. Though, I imagined that being able to do that meant I wasn’t in the midst of a wild mood swing.
After Ridge’s parents came and met the baby, the nurses ushered them out pretty quickly. I wasn’t the typical postpartum mom. I had just had brain surgery - sort of. Cranial surgery at any rate. “Visiting hours are over in about five minutes,” my nurse told us when it was only Ridge and I left with our son.
“Pretty sure that chair folds out into a bed,” Ridge said. “Maybe they can bring me a blanket and a pillow.”
“No.”
Ridge glanced over at me the minute the word left my mouth. “No?” he questioned.
“You may be Liam’s father, but you're just a visitor in my hospital room, and visiting hours are over."
“You’re serious?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe I would kick him out.
