The doctor places her on my chest, and I'm immediately overwhelmed by her. She's so small, so perfect, covered in vernix and blood and absolutely beautiful. Her little face is scrunched up as she cries, her tiny fists waving in the air.
"Hi, baby," I whisper, touching her soft head. "Hi, sweetheart. We've been waiting for you."
Rhett is crying. My tough, scarred, ex-military husband is openly weeping as he looks at our daughter. His hand comes up to touch her tiny hand, and she immediately grips his finger.
"She's perfect," he breathes. "Claire, she's absolutely perfect."
"She is," I agree, unable to look away from her face. "She really is."
The nurses come in to clean her up and check her vitals, but they let Rhett cut the umbilical cord first. His hands are shaking as he does it, and I can see the wonder across his face. This is the man who thought he didn't deserve love, who believed he was too broken for happiness, who hired a mail order bride because he was too scared to try the conventional way.
And now he's a father.
"Seven pounds, three ounces," the nurse announces. "Twenty inches long. She's healthy as can be."
They wrap her in a blanket and hand her back to me. She's stopped crying now, just looking around with unfocused eyes, trying to make sense of this bright new world she's been thrust into.
"What are we naming her?" Rhett asks, stroking her cheek with one finger.
We'd discussed names for months, going back and forth between options. But now, looking at her face, I know exactly what her name should be.
"Hope," I say. "Her name is Hope. Hope Francesca Palmer."
Rhett's breath catches. Francesca, the feminine version of Frank's middle name, Francis. A way to honor the man who saved Rhett's life and made all of this possible.
"Hope Francesca Palmer," he repeats, testing it out. "It's perfect. She's perfect." He looks at me with tears still streaming down his face. "You're perfect."
"We're perfect together," I correct him.
There's a knock on the door, and a nurse pokes her head in. "There's quite a crowd in the waiting room asking about you. Want me to let them know you're ready for visitors?"
"Give us five more minutes," Rhett says. "Then they can come in."
The nurse nods and disappears.
Rhett settles onto the bed beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders so he can look at our daughter too. We sit there in silence for a moment, just the three of us, our little family.
"I can't believe she's here," Rhett says quietly. "I can't believe I'm a dad."
"You're going to be an amazing dad," I tell him. "Just like Frank was to you."
"I hope so." He kisses Hope's forehead, then mine. "Thank you. For taking a chance on me three years ago. For getting on that bus. For staying even when it was scary and uncertain. Thank you for giving me this."
"You gave me this too," I remind him. "You gave me a home, a family, a purpose. You gave me everything I'd lost when my father died. You gave me hope—" I look down at our daughter. "In more ways than one."
The door bursts open, and suddenly the room is full of people. Wade and Sierra, Tucker and Marley with Emma bouncing excitedly, Boone and Nicole, Mason, Lily and her daughter, Colt and Harper, everyone we love crowded into the small hospital room to meet the newest member of the Promise Ranch family.
"Is that her?" Emma squeals, trying to see around the adults. "Is that the baby?"
"That's her," I confirm, adjusting so Emma can see better. "This is Hope."
"She's so tiny!" Emma breathes. "Can I hold her?"
"Maybe in a bit, sweetheart," Tucker says, but he's smiling as he looks at our daughter. "Let Claire rest first."
Everyone takes turns coming close to look at Hope, to congratulate us, to marvel at how much she looks like Rhett with her strong features. Sierra is crying happy tears. Nicole keeps saying "she's so precious" over and over. Even Mason, who's usually so stoic, has a soft expression on his face.
Colt claps Rhett on the shoulder. "Welcome to fatherhood, man. Your life is officially over."
