“I’m a little sore, but good. Are you ready to meet your newest grandbaby?”
Caroline smiles softly. “I would love nothing more.”
I walk around the bed with Jessie in my arms. She’s wearing her ‘heaven sent’ onesie, wrapped in the blanket Caroline knit for her. I lower my arms and let Caroline scoop her up.
“Say hello to Jessica Selena Rossi-Hayes,” Angie says.
Chin quivering, Caroline gently presses her palm against the blanket to get a better look at Jessie’s face. “Hi, sweet Jessie.” With a misty-eyed smile, she brings Angie in for a one-armed hug, pressing their foreheads together. “She’s watching. I know it.”
Caroline stands and transfers the sleeping bundle to Shawn.
“She’s perfect,” he says. “Thank you for honoring my baby girl.”
“There was never another name on the list,” Angie replies. “Nothing else felt right.”
Shawn wipes a tear from Caroline’s cheek and presses a kiss to her forehead, lost in their own world.
Angie reaches for me, her fingers intertwining with mine. I sit on the edge of the bed, offering my silent support, and she takes it without reservation, laying her head on my shoulder.
“We can’t stay,” Caroline says, transferring the sleeping baby from Shawn’s arms to Angie’s. “But let me know when you’re settled at home, and we’ll come by for a visit. I can cook dinner and help out around the house.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Angie says, trailing her finger along the slope of Jessie’s cheek.
Caroline scoffs, staring pointedly at my wife. “You’re just like her, you know. She said the same thing after Emmy Lou was born. And you can’t stop me either.”
Before Angie can protest, I say, “We’d love to have you, Caroline. Thanks for coming.”
After snapping a few more photos, they say their goodbyes, and we’re alone again.
The discharge nurse arrives not a minute too soon. “Ready to go home, mama?” she asks.
Angie heaves a quiet sigh. “So ready.”
Angelina
I expected to return home to a mess considering how quickly we abandoned the place, but you wouldn’t know anyone had given birth here at all if it weren’t for the handmade ‘Welcome Home Jessie’banner hanging in the entry, and the fresh bouquet of sunflowers on the kitchen island.
Griffin closes the door behind us and guides me into the living room, settling me on the couch before he removes Jessie from her car seat.
“Mama and Olivia came by,” he says, sinking onto the sofabeside me with our daughter in his arms. “They cleaned up and left some meals in the freezer for us.”
My eyes sting with fresh tears as an unwelcome flood of gratitude washes over me. The doctor warned me that my hormones would be all over the place, but this is ridiculous. My well should have dried up hours ago, but they just keep coming. I swipe impatiently at them, willing them away.
Griffin lifts his arm, beckoning me to him. I settle against his side and peer over at my daughter, curled up in a ball on his chest. She’s eight pounds of pure perfection with a head full of dark hair and the chubbiest cheeks I’ve ever seen on a newborn. I could stare at her all day.
My phone rings with a video call from my parents, and I can’t answer fast enough. We talked briefly after Jessie was born, and they’ve seen photos, of course, but I wish they could be here to meet her. I’m eager to plan their visit soon.
“Lina, my love,” Mom says. “How are you? How’s my granddaughter?”
“We’re both good. Just got home.”
“Good. A package should be arriving for you any minute.”
“A package? What for?”
Mom smiles the familiar smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “You’ll see.”
I tilt the phone, so Griffin and Jessie are in the frame. “Mom, this is Griffin. My husband.”
