“Of course.” Cane handed the baby to her with ease, and she sighed as soon as he was in her arms.
“Oh! He’s so cuddly!”
Cane smiled, eyes on Chance. Everyone else was looking at the baby too as Frankie nuzzled the tip of her nose across his downy head. Cane’s eyes shifted up to me while everyone watched the baby. It was brief, but there was a change in his eyes—a light that I’d never seen before. I had been certain Cane was content before, but in this moment, I think there was a feeling inside him that exceeded happiness.
I know that feeling, because I felt it too.
Happiness was too simple a word for how I felt.
I never wanted these feelings to end.
“I think I know what I’m going to name him,” I announced when Frankie handed the baby to me.
“Oh, yeah? What?” Mom inquired.
I snuggled him, and after placing a kiss on his forehead, I looked up at Cane, who smiled down at me like he knew what I was going to say. “He was our fighting chance,” I said. “I'm going to name him Chance. Chance Cane.”
Within three days, I was clear to go. Mom and Dad stayed in a hotel in town and were around a lot. When it was time for me to check out, they were both there waiting. They followed behind us in their car to our house.
I was in the back seat with Chance while Cane drove. I swear, I couldn’t stop looking at him even if I tried. And what is it with babies and those long pauses they take before drawing their next breath? It freaked me out when Chance did it, and of course he did it often.
When we arrived, Cane carried Chance to the house in his car seat, heading to the front door to unlock it. My parents met up to me, helping me up the sidewalk and into the house. They helped me unpack and watched Chance while I showered and ate and slept because, yeah, I was super happy, but exhausted too.
Laughing and coughing and even moving were pretty painful, due to the C-section, but when I looked at Chance, I realized I would go through hell and back for him. After all, what was a war without a few battle scars?
Although Chance was a great baby who only cried when he had a dirty diaper, was hungry, or sleepy, he had a terrible latch. Breast-feeding was harder than I expected, and it broke my heart when we’d try and try and still he wasn’t getting anything. Chance would cry because he wasn’t getting the milk he needed, and I would cry because my baby was hungry, and my nipples hurt, and I was tired as hell.
Cane worked from home so he could be close to me and Chance, and he, Lora, and Miss Cane were great about taking him off my hands when I needed to rest or shower, but feeding him was all up to me, and I refused to give up on it. I swore I would do anything for my baby, so I toughed it out and eventually—okay, a month later—I got the hang of it. It was nice having a support system, and my parents visited every weekend for the first few weeks.
Dad was less hostile about our situation, shoving those feelings aside due to his excitement to be around his grandson. He and Cane talked a lot more, though, which was good. It started with updates about Chance, and then minor sports talk if a game was on, and then they talked about work. They began having full conversations, and I was pleased to see it.
Having a baby while in college was hard, but my professors worked with me. During the first six weeks, I’d enrolled in online classes and did the work from home. When I managed to go to class after those six weeks had passed, Lora or Miss Cane would watch Chance for me for a few hours until I returned. They were good with him, but they spoiled him rotten for sure.
My life revolved around Chance now. I went to college, took care of him, and spent time with Cane. It was a simple life—a routine we’d created—and I was living through it. What we had now felt even more real than what we had before. In a way, Chance completed us. He made us happy. He was a beautiful baby, with chunky thighs and small toes and chubby cheeks. His skin was a few shades lighter than mine, and a bit darker than Cane’s—the perfect blend of us.
Around eight weeks postpartum, I felt much, much better. It wasn’t as painful anymore to move around, Chance was getting healthier and growing so fast I couldn’t believe it. Once I’d gotten the green light from Dr. Maxine, I decided to whip my butt in just enough shape to fit into the wedding dresses I was scheduled to try on in July. Fortunately, it didn’t take me too long to get back into shape, though I did have loose skin that was never going to go away unless I had plastic surgery. Cane swore he loved it because it was literal proof that I was his, but I legit hated it.