“Oh my God,” I whispered.
Saint looked down and his expression turned to putty. Then he kissed the side of Zahra’s face and said, “Come on, Mama. He right there. One more.”
The doula kept her hands ready in the water while the midwife told Zahra when to breathe and when to push again. Zahra cried out and pushed with everything in her, and the baby’s head came out fully. The doula guided one shoulder, then the other, and suddenly the rest of him slipped out into the water.
The doula scooped him up and lifted him into the air. Water streamed off his little body while he opened his mouth and let out his first cry.
The sound broke all of us. Zahra started sobbing instantly. Saint let out a shaken breath as he stared at his son with tears in his eyes. All that hard, dangerous, cocky shit he wore so naturally melted clean off him the second he looked at his son. His eyes filled right there in front of everybody, as he let out this broken, happy sound that made fresh tears spill down my cheeks.
The doula laid the baby right onto Zahra’s chest while the midwife checked the baby, and Saint folded over both of them like he couldn’t believe what he was looking at.
“You did that.” He sounded so full of love and completely wrecked at the same time. “You just gave me my son. I love you so much.”
Zahra looked down at their son, crying and laughing at the same time, while Saint kissed the side of her face over and over.
I sat up on that counter with tears running down my face and watched them hold their son in the tub.
Thiswas what it should be.Thiswas what love should feel like when a baby came into the world. It should feel safe, wanted, celebrated, and wrapped in two parents who looked at each other and that child like nothing else mattered more.
Zahra and Saint named him Czar LaCross. Once the doula assured that Czar was healthy and Zahra got all cleaned up and in bed, the family took turns coming in to take a peek at him.
Their chef whipped up food for everybody. We all ate and hung out in the den. The others rehashed how Zahra sounded, even from all the way upstairs, every time she got a contraction. What I kept rehashing was the way Saint kept looking between his wife and his son like he had been handed the whole world at once and knew it. He couldn’t stop loving her out loud.
And after watching him hold her through every contraction, talk her through every push, praise her while she fell apart and brought their child into the world, I knew I just wanted to be happy. Whatever that meant for me now that I was in this shit-uation, I wanted it. I was tired of holding on to all the anger. I was tired of sitting in my hurt so long that it started shaping everything about this pregnancy. Watching Saint love my sister that hard, that openly, had reminded me that even if my story was messy, even if I didn’t get some pretty version of this, I still deserved to enjoy my pregnancy. So, I decided right then to stop fighting Reek. No matter his feelings, I was going to feel nothing but joy when it came to my child.
Having made that decision, I felt lighter and hungry. So, I quietly slipped out of the den and went straight to the kitchen.
The chef had left food out buffet-style on the island, so I started fixing a plate. I spooned greens onto one side, macaroni onto the other, added a piece of roasted chicken, then reached for the rolls.
That was when Reek walked in. For once, I didn’t feel that instant rush of anger. After witnessing that miracle of life and love upstairs, there was no way that I could feel any rage.
He stopped just inside the kitchen and looked at me. I went back to making my plate.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” I admitted. I kept my eyes on the food while I spoke. “I knew you wouldn’t want it. I knew it would be messy, and I still didn’t tell you when I should have. But I wasn’t getting rid of my baby just to avoid messiness. I need you to understand that.”
Reek just stayed quiet. So, I set the serving spoon down and finally looked at him. “You made me feel rejected at one of the most vulnerable moments of my life. That’s what hurt me the most.”
Still, he said nothing, and that was okay, because I didn’t want to argue and this conversation wasn’t for or about him. It was for me, so that I could say the last things I needed to say so that I could just move on without a chip on my shoulder.
“I had feelings for you before the pregnancy,” I admitted. “I was attracted to you differently than I’d ever felt before. But I knew you would never want what I wanted, so I avoided those feelings. Still, I had feelings for you, and I thought we had some kind of connection that would make you handle me more carefully. But you didn’t, and that hurt.” His eyes held mine as I told him, “But I’m going to let that hurt go because I want to feel as much joy as I can when it comes to this child. I’m done fighting with you. So, you can do what you want. You can be as active as you want. You can show up however much or howeverlittle you feel like you can handle. I just want to enjoy my pregnancy.”
I didn’t wait for him to answer. I turned away from him, picked my plate up, and was about to continue piling food onto it when the baby kicked so hard I almost dropped the plate.
My free hand went to my stomach on instinct.
Reek’s blank expression turned into concern. “You okay?”
I set the plate back down and walked toward him. Then I took his hand and placed it against my stomach.
“The baby is kicking.”
I didn’t do it because I thought he would care or that it would change how he felt about the baby. I did it because I felt like he should meet his child.
At first, he just stood there with his hand under mine, looking down. Then the baby moved again, and something softened in his face so fast it almost stole my breath. His eyes dropped lower and all that usual hardness eased into something open, startled, and a little scared too.
He lifted his other hand without saying a word and spread both palms over my stomach like he was trying to catch every movement. The baby kicked again. Then again. More than it ever had before, like he knew exactly who was touching them.
I looked up at Reek and saw the shift clear as day. He still didn’t say anything. But for the first time, his fear didn’t completely overpower him. I could feel that much.
