“Did you do that, baby?” she asked.
“Yes, baby. With Ms. Miriam’s help.”
“Thank you, Deuce,” she whispered and then resumed her breathing exercises.
“Deuce, move here and massage her hips and back while Amani holds her hand,” my mother instructed. I moved to where my mother instructed me and massaged Sevyn’s hips and back so that she could feel some relief during her contractions. Fresh aromatherapy scents enveloped the room. We had chosen lavender to help her relax, orange to lift her energy, and clary sage to help with strong contractions.
When Sevyn mentioned wanting to have a home birth, I had been terrified at the idea. But in time, it had become ingrained in me, and I wanted it also. Our entire living room had been turned into a birthing room for her, and it was a beautiful space to welcome our son into, with hanging plants everywhere, pillows strategically placed around the room, and soft, comfortable chairs for everyone to sit in.
My mother instructed Sevyn to push, and every part of me wished it was me dealing with that pain rather than my wife. I knew that she was strong enough to do it, but she had already endured so much in this world. I wanted to spare her any more pain.
When our little boy finally came into the world, Sevyn cried and smiled at the same time. I wrapped my arms around Sevyn and kissed her as my mother pulled the baby free, and Amani worked to clean our son while my mother attended to Sevyn.
“What are you naming him?” my mother asked when they finally brought the baby back to Sevyn to hold him.
“Naeem Tyree Fullwood the third,” Sevyn professed softly.
My mother smiled at me and then at Sevyn.
“Ace is going to love that,” my mother declared happily, referencing my dad.
“I know,” Sevyn replied softly before she kissed our son’s head again.
“Are you giving him a nickname, Deuce?” my mother asked with a knowing smile.
I nodded. “You already know. Mama, say hello to your grandson, Tre.”
“I love that,” Mama replied, laughing.
My sister and mother took turns holding the baby and taking pictures with him. It wasn’t long before my father, Asad, and his wife, Varasia, arrived.
“Old man, you finally became a daddy,” Asad greeted upon walking through the door.
I rolled my eyes. “You just hating because I preserved my time to become a father until I was mature enough to give this prince everything that he needs.”
Asad laughed. “Okay. Is that what you’re telling yourself?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have to rush all mine while I was young, because I was having a brood.”
“Hey, lay up off the Significant Seven,” Asad warned lightheartedly.
I laughed. “I’m just saying.”
“Who knows? You two might have a lot of kids like Asad and I did,” Varasia chimed in.
“Asia,” Sevyn called out in a raspy tone, calling our sister by her nickname. “I love you, honey, and I love my man. But there’s no way on God’s green earth that I’m about to give this man seven kids. After this little boy, we need to discuss whether we’re even having another one.”
I glanced at her and pulled a face. “At least one more, babe.”
She pulled a face back at me and rolled her eyes. “You go and have your uterus snatched out of your body, your spine contorted into a pretzel, and your entire pelvis twisted inside out, then come back and talk to me.”
Everyone laughed.
“How about we just enjoy this precious little boy before we rush into discussions about another one,” my father suggested, taking him from Asad’s arms.
“Look at him. He’s already got Granddaddy wrapped around his little fingers,” Amani declared.
“That he does. Looks just like me,” my father boasted, causing everyone to laugh.
