She ushered us inside, fussing over me the entire way. Did I want tea? Was I hungry? Had Knox been taking care of me properly?She shot him a suspicious look at that last question, and he held up his hands in surrender.
“I’m doing my best, Sarah. I swear.”
“Hmph. You better be.”
The inside of her house was exactly what I would have expected. Comfortable furniture, family photos everywhere, the smell of baking cookies wafting from the kitchen. It felt homey and safe.
And then I heard it.
A soft cry from the back room. High pitched and newborn, unmistakably a baby.
My whole body went still.
Sarah’s expression gentled. “She just woke up from her nap. Perfect timing.” She looked at me carefully. “Are you ready?”
Was I? I had no idea. But I nodded anyway.
Sarah disappeared down the hallway and returned a moment later with a bundle in her arms. A small bundle wrapped in a soft yellow blanket, with a tiny face peeking out.
My daughter.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Knox’s hand found the small of my back, steady and reassuring.
“Do you want to hold her?” Sarah asked gently.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Sarah placed the baby in my arms, adjusting my hold so I was supporting her head properly. The weight of her was so slight, so delicate. She was so small. How could anything be this small?
I looked down at her face and my heart cracked open.
She had Knox’s dark hair, just a little tuft of it on the top of her head. But her eyes, when they blinked open, were mine. Warm brown, with the same shape, the same depth. She looked up at me with unfocused newborn eyes, and her tiny mouth opened in a yawn.
Tears streamed down my face.
“Hi,” I whispered. “Hi, baby girl. I’m your mama.”
She made a soft cooing sound, her little fist waving in the air. I caught it gently, marveling at how tiny her fingers were. Perfect miniature fingers with perfect miniature nails.
“She’s beautiful,” I choked out. “Knox, she’s so beautiful.”
He was beside me, his arm around my shoulders, his own eyes suspiciously wet. “She looks just like you.”
“She has your hair.”
“Poor kid.”
I laughed through my tears. “Your hair is gorgeous and you know it.”
Sarah was watching us with a soft smile, her hands clasped in front of her chest. “She’s been waiting for you, you know. Everyday, I’d bring her to the hospital and she’d get quiet when I held her near your bed. As if she knew you were there.”
My heart squeezed. A month. I had missed a month of my daughter’s life. Her first weeks in this world, and I hadn’t been there for any of it.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the baby. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
Knox’s arm tightened around me. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
The baby started to fuss, her little face scrunching up, her cries getting louder. Sarah chuckled.
