He looked at me.
“Go,” I urged. “I don’t want her switched at birth.”
He winked and stepped out of the room with our girl.
Eddy came to stand next to me and whispered, “I wish I hadn’t just witnessed that.”
“Why?” I laughed.
“Because I just found out that I’m pregnant.”
I smiled big. “Oh, Eddy. It was the best thing ever.”
She looked down at what was going on between my legs.
“Well, you did shit yourself.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m going to fucking murder you, Eddy.”
Eddy grinned wickedly at me.
“Dear.” The nurse looked at my sister. “She has a fourth-degree tear. She just pushed a baby out of her that was a full ten pounds. She did this all naturally with an epidural that was spotty at best. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this every three seconds. Now, either you sit there and don’t add commentary that we didn’t ask for, or you leave. Those are your two choices.”
Eddy looked contrite. “Sorry.”
Hours later, I finally got to head to the nursery where my husband had been keeping vigil at our daughter’s side.
“Which one’s yours?” a woman asked from my side.
I hadn’t seen her before she’d spoken, and she startled me slightly, making me jump. “Sorry.”
“That one.” I pointed at my girl who was having her shoulder examined by a doctor. “She had what they call shoulder dystocia.”
She patted me on the shoulder.
“It’s scary, I know.”
I looked to the woman with beautiful, long gray hair and said, “You know?”
She nodded. “My son, Luca, was born with shoulder dystocia, too. But look at him now.”
I did, glancing down the hall at a tall man with black hair and bulky shoulders. He had his hands on the glass as he smiled down at a tiny little baby boy who was getting put into a fresh diaper.
“He had it?”
She nodded. “Scared the hell out of both me and his father. I thought that I was going to die. That he was going to die. But he turned out okay, and yours will, too. The broken collarbone is scary now, but I promise you, she won’t remember a thing. Neither will she have any developmental issues with her shoulder.”
Relief tore through me at the thought.
“Thank you.” I smiled.
She patted me on the shoulder. “What’s that name say on her chest?”
I smiled again. “Margery Mae.”
“A strong name for a strong girl.” She smiled. “Where’d you get the name from?”
“My daughter’s great-grandmother on her daddy’s side,” I explained. “Her middle name is Mae. Her grandfather’s middle name is Eam. I thought it would be a cool play on that name if we went with Eam spelled backward.”
