In the doorway, Maggie stood with tears streaming down her face, watching her daughter hold her grandchildren for the first time. She thought about all the years that had led to this moment, all the joy and pain and uncertainty that had shaped this family into what it was.
And she thought, with a certainty that filled her entire being, that this was what it was all about. This moment. This love. This new generation, just beginning their journey.
“Welcome to the world,” she whispered to the babies she could not yet hold. “Welcome to our family.”
CHAPTER 15
Beth’s hospital room had settled into a quiet hum of activity. Nurses came and went, checking vitals, adjusting monitors, offering Beth ice chips and words of encouragement. The twins had been taken briefly to the nursery for their initial examinations, and Beth lay against the pillows, exhausted beyond anything she had ever experienced, waiting for them to return.
Her body felt like it belonged to someone else. The epidural had worn off hours ago, and now she was acutely aware of every ache, every twinge, every reminder of what she had just put herself through. Delivering one baby naturally was an athletic feat. Delivering two, back to back, with only a few minutes between them, was something else entirely.
She had torn during Charlotte's delivery. The doctor had stitched her up while she held Alexander on her chest, the strange tugging sensation barely registering through the fog of hormones and exhaustion. Now the stitches throbbed with a dull, persistent pain that the nurses assured her was normal but that made every movement uncomfortable.
Her legs still trembled when she tried to shift position. Herarms ached from gripping the bed rails during the pushing. Her throat was raw from the sounds she had made, sounds she hadn't known she was capable of producing, primal and animal and completely beyond her control.
Gabriel sat beside her, his hand wrapped around hers, his eyes fixed on the door. He had not stopped touching her since the delivery, as if he needed the physical connection to convince himself that this was real, that they had actually done it, that their children were actually here.
“You should eat something,” Maggie said from her chair by the window. She had been there for hours, a steady presence through the chaos, and now she looked nearly as tired as Beth felt. “They brought a tray. There's Jello.”
“I'm not hungry.” The thought of food made Beth's stomach turn. She was running on adrenaline and emotion, her body still processing the enormity of what it had just accomplished. “Maybe later.”
“You need to keep your strength up. The babies will be back soon, and they're going to want to eat again later.”
The lactation consultant had visited briefly after the delivery, helping her get Charlotte latched for the first time. It had been awkward and painful, nothing like the serene images she had seen in books and magazines. Her nipples were already sore, and she had only nursed each baby once.
“How did you do this five times?” Beth asked her mother. “How did you go through this and then decide to do it again?”
Maggie smiled, a knowing expression that spoke of shared experience. “You forget. Not completely, but enough. The body has a way of softening the memory, of letting you remember the joy without the full weight of the pain.” She paused. “And the truth is, it was different every time. Michael was the hardest. Twenty-two hours of labor, and he was almost ten pounds. By the time you came along, my body knew what to do.”
“Twenty-two hours.” Beth shuddered. “I don't know how you survived.”
“You survived too. You did something incredible today, sweetheart. Two babies, both healthy, both perfect. Your body did exactly what it was designed to do.”
Beth looked down at herself, at the deflated belly that still looked six months pregnant, at the mesh underwear and the ice pack and the various tubes and monitors attached to her. She didn't feel incredible. She felt like she had been hit by a truck and then asked to run a marathon.
But she had done it, and she felt proud of herself in that moment.
A soft knock came at the door, and Chelsea poked her head in.
“You have visitors,” she said. “Michael and Brea are asking if you're up for company.”
Beth looked at Gabriel, who raised an eyebrow in question. She knew she probably looked terrible. Her hair was matted with sweat, her face was pale, and she was wearing a hospital gown that had seen better days. But this was her brother. He had seen her at her worst plenty of times before.
“Send them in,” she said.
The door opened wider, and Michael Wheeler stepped into the room.
“Hey, little sister,” he said softly.
“Hey yourself.”
He crossed to the bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead, his hand squeezing her shoulder with gentle pressure. Behind him, Brea appeared, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face soft with emotion.
“Beth,” Brea said. “Congratulations. We're so happy for you.”
“Thank you for coming. Both of you.” Beth shifted against the pillows, wincing as the movement pulled at her stitches. “Where are the kids?”
“With my parents,” Brea said. “We didn't want to overwhelm you with the whole crew. Quinn wanted to come, but we told her she could visit tomorrow.”
