Her screams neared a pitch only dogs could hear as they boomeranged around the inside of my skull, my brain throbbing with an intense headache that had the edges of my vision blurring.
“Stop!”
The one-word command was issued harshly enough that Rory’s eyes popped open.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped, breathless.
Leaning forward, I peeked between her legs, catching the moment that the doctor eased the cord from around the baby’s neck.
“Nothing.” I rubbed Rory’s arm. “He’s got hair.”
“He does?” Unfocused blue eyes blinked up at me.
“Mm-hmm.” My lips found her temple. “You’re doing so well. Not much longer and he’ll be in your arms.”
Her chest heaved on a broken sob. “I’m so tired.”
“You can rest soon. I promise.”
Fuck, after this ordeal, it would be a miracle if she wasn’t bedbound for a week in order to recover.
“All right, Mrs. Bellini. Feel free to push whenever you feel the urge. One more should do it.”
Mustering up every last ounce of strength she had left, my wife gave it her all, and with one final shout, our son’s slippery body slid onto the mattress.
Rory sagged against me, completely spent.
“He’s here. You did it.” I peppered kisses to the side of her head. “I’m so proud of you.”
Overwhelmed with relief, she wept loudly. And only then did I realize we were missing the accompanying set of cries.
Almost too terrified of what I would find when I looked away from my wife, I forced my eyes to lift to the scene playing out at the foot of the bed.
Our newborn son was covered in a waxy white substance mixed with blood, but underneath, his skin was blue. The doctor suctioned his mouth with a bulb before placing the infant face-down over his forearm, frantically rubbing his back. I could just barely read the words his lips silently mouthed,Come on, little one. Give me a cry.
Numbly, I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening. Not after our enemies failed time and time again to end his life in utero. Not after his mother endured an unmedicated traumatic birth to bring him into this world. Not after I found it within me to fall in love at first sight with a little boy who might not ever take a first breath.
Rory blubbered against my chest, her tears soaking through the thin cotton of my shirt as she pleaded with God to save her baby while in the same breath cursing me for not taking her to the hospital, weather be damned.
My soul was violently ripped from my body, and it felt like I was watching the scene from above as the man who’d literally kept me alive after multiple gunshot wounds struggled to resuscitate our baby boy. All while I sat a few feet away, unable to do anything more than cling to my hysterical wife.
Grief closed in from all sides, suffocating me, almost as if I was stripped of the ability to breathe alongside my son.
The crushing weight of loss settled deep in my bones, and the words I’d said to Rory after the bombing came back to haunt me.
We can make another baby, butyouare irreplaceable.
I was wrong. So very, very wrong.
Luca was a part of me—of both of us—and losing him would create a hole in my heart that no other child would ever be able to fill.
Eyes burning, I buried my face in Rory’s hair. It was too painful to watch this tragedy play out a moment longer.
Just when it felt as though all hope was lost, that our family would be forever broken, the weakest of cries sounded.
My head snapped up to find the baby Dr. Corsi held beginning to move, his skin transitioning from blue to pink as a louder wail pierced the air.
An expression of sheer relief overtaking his features, the doctor chastised, “Gave us quite a scare, young man.”
