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“Breathe, Sam. You’re so strong. He’s almost here.”
When the pain made me cry out, he pressed his forehead to mine, sharing the moment without flinching.
The doctor checked me periodically, her voice encouraging as progress continued. Time stretched strangely. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt suspended. I focused on Richard’s face, on the steady pressure of his hand, on the thought of finally meeting our child.
The contractions grew closer, stronger, until they rolled through me almost without pause. I pushed when they told me to, every ounce of energy poured into bringing the baby into the world.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor said, “One more push.”
I pushed with everything I had.
The baby cried.
The doctor smiled. “It’s a boy.”
Richard sounded proud and satisfied beside me. “I told you.”
I laughed through exhausted tears as they took him briefly to weigh, measure, and check him over. The nurse returned him to my chest a short while later, now wearing a tiny orange pumpkin hat that sat on his small head.
She smiled warmly. “He’s our first Halloween baby of the night. Born at 12:12 AM on October 31st.”
I started crying, deep, shaking sobs of pure love. His little face, his tiny fingers, the way he quieted against me beneath that silly little hat. I’d never felt anything like it.
The doctor asked, “Have you chosen a name?”
I stroked my son’s cheek with one trembling finger.
“My dad always said if I was a boy, he would’ve named me Seth.” I kissed his tiny forehead, tears falling freely. “I think he would’ve liked knowing someone finally got to carry it.”
Richard nodded once, his eyes steady on us both. “Seth.”
They completed the birth certificate.
Seth Kincaid.
I held my son close, breathing in his newness, and believed with every piece of my heart that after losing my father, life had finally given me something beautiful and good.
My sweet boy, Seth.
Chapter 26
Richard
Istood in the doorway and watched Samantha sleep with Seth pressed against her chest.
We’d been home for a week and she rarely put him down. Her hand curved protectively over his back. She’d fought to stay awake earlier but exhaustion finally won. Her head would dip and then jerk back up while her fingers tightened every time he shifted. Even in her sleep, she curled inward around him like she could shield him from the whole world. Her hair fell messy around her face, and dark circles shadowed her eyes from the strain of postpartum exhaustion.
I stepped forward and took Seth from her arms. She stirred right away with her body reacting before her mind caught up.
“I’ve got him,” I said quietly.
Her eyes barely opened before closing again.
“Okay,” she murmured.
He weighed almost nothing as I held him against my shoulder. I studied his tiny nose and small hands and the dark hair at his temples. He barely made any sound and just watched with this calm focus that set him apart from other babies I’d seen.
Babies learned whatever the people around them taught them. Fear. Loyalty. Love. Hatred. None of it existed in him yet. Seth belonged to me first. The rest of the world would spend years trying to shape him. They would fail.
