Cesare went to get him.
Piero entered slowly, reverently, his eyes already wet.
He stopped when he saw Lucia in my arms.
"She's here," he whispered. "She's really here."
"Come meet your niece," I invited.
He approached, looked down at Lucia, and started crying in earnest.
"Hi, Lucia. I'm your Uncle Piero." He touched her tiny hand with one finger. "You're so beautiful."
Lucia grasped his finger, that instinctive newborn grip.
"She's strong," he marveled.
"Like her mother," Cesare said.
After a few minutes, Piero reluctantly stepped back. "Giovanni's next?"
I nodded.
My father entered, already crying before he even saw her.
"Papa," I said softly. "Would you like to hold her?"
"May I?"
I showed him how to support her head. He took Lucia with trembling hands, looked down at his granddaughter, and completely fell apart.
"Hello, little one. I'm your Nonno. Your grandfather." His tears fell onto her blanket. "And I'm going to love you so much."
Lucia made a small sound. Giovanni cried harder.
"Thank you," he said to me, voice breaking. "Thank you for letting me be here. For this gift."
"You're family, Papa."
After Giovanni, Anna came in with flowers and tears.
"Oh my God, Paola. She's perfect."
"Want to hold her?"
Anna took Lucia carefully, looking down with pure wonder. "Hi, Lucia. I'm your Auntie Anna. You're so loved. So incredibly loved."
After visiting hours ended, it was just us. The three of us.
A nurse showed us how to change a diaper. We fumbled through it, Lucia screaming her displeasure.
"This is harder than it looks," Cesare muttered.
"We'll get better."
Eventually, we got Lucia clean, changed, re-swaddled. Night fell. The hospital settled into quiet. Lucia slept in the bassinet beside my bed. We couldn't stop staring at her.
"I can't believe she's real," I whispered.
