“They’ve got this under control,” he assures me.
Meg roars and I cast a worried look her way, so Adrian moves in front of me, blocking my view and giving me a firm look. “Come on. You’ve helped as much as you could.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I inform him.
“I can’t do it,” Meg whines.
“You have to push,” Mateo states, firmly. “The doctor said to keep pushing.”
“You push!” she tosses back at him. “I’m tired.”
The doctor tells her to give him one more good, hard push and even though she looks like she’d rather die, Meg manages to do it.
The doctor pops his head up to tell Mateo, “He’s crowning.”
Now Mateo leaves her side and goes to the foot of the bed where the doctor and the assistant are.
One minute the unpleasant sounds of labor fill the room, and the next, a new cry joins the mix. A somehow angrier little cry, screaming at the top of his lungs to let us all know how pissed off he is at his eviction.
I light up like a kid on Christmas and grin at Adrian. His shoulders sag with relief, and we both turn back to look. The assistant is grinning at Mateo, holding the shrill bundle of anger up for him to see.
I grab Adrian’s arm and give it an excited shake. “Let’s go see him.”
“He’s so mad,” Adrian remarks.
“Furious. He must have been happy where he was,” I add, craning my neck to look as the assistant carries him over and begins cleaning him up.
Mateo waits for her to do her thing, but he looks over at me and smiles as I approach.
“He’s okay, I take it?” Adrian asks.
“All good,” Mateo verifies, nodding his head.
The baby continues to scream his head off.
“He has your disposition,” Adrian jokes.
Mateo tries to give him a dry look, but he doesn’t quite manage to shake the happiness. I feel the faintest stab of pain that I’m not the one who gave him that, but I shake it off just as quickly. This isn’t the time. There will never be a time, because that’s an unpleasant and unproductive way to feel.
I snake a hand around his waist and he turns his attention to me. I’m smiling as I say, “You finally have a son.”
He wraps his other arm around me and draws me close, then lets his hand drift down to rub my belly. “We have a son. In a few months, we’ll have two.”
That makes me feel better. I lean in to kiss him—just a quick peck, but he holds me there for an extra minute.
The assistant comes back with a bundled up baby. He’s still mad, but not as mad as he was. Now his cries have tapered off. As the assistant hands him over to Mateo, the baby makes some vague noises of disgruntlement, but he seems to soak up Mateo’s presence and understand already his bullshit will not be tolerated.
I grin, placing a hand on Mateo’s shoulder and peering over to see the baby. He’s all red right now, but he’s so beautiful. “He has hair,” I say, excitedly.
Mateo cuts me a smile. “Of course he has hair. All my babies have hair.”
“Oh, my God, he’s so adorable.” I resist the urge to ask if I can touch him—this is my husband, my family, of course I can touch him. I reach out and run my finger across his tiny, soft little hand. I have to work hard not to erupt with excitement, but babies are so awesome, and this is Mateo’s baby; I can’t entirely handle it.
“You still like Roman?” Mateo asks me, his eyes on the baby’s tiny face.
“For the name? Yes, I still like Roman.”
He nods and I dart my first glance at Meg since the baby emerged. I was initially too worried about the heart rate and whether or not he was okay, but now that the baby’s health is no longer a matter of urgency, I feel like I should go check on his mother.
Mateo’s voice brings me back to the moment. “You want to hold him?”
I utter a faint “oh” of surprise, then a feather-light little bundle of blankets is transferred into my arms. I shift his weight on my chest, cradling his small body in my arm and smiling down into his handsome little face. “Hello, little cutie.” His mouth opens and closes and he turns his head, looking up at me with big, solemn eyes.
I can’t handle how cute his little face is. He makes a little noise and my heart erupts like a volcano of love. I dart a look of excitement at Mateo. “Listen to him. He has the sweetest little voice.”
“Yes,” Mateo remarks, amused, “his vocal chords are quite impressive.”
“They are,” I insist, rubbing the back of my finger across his cheek and snuggling him close. I peer at Meg again. The doctor has walked back to his assistant, so I guess we’re good to approach her now. I want to keep holding the baby, but I shift my gaze to Mateo. “Do you want to take him over to see Meg?”