Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
"Do you think they're ugly?"
Reed looked over at me in confusion as he situated his mask into place. "They're our children. They're not ugly. At least not to us."
I started to crack up. "I guess what I meant to say is, do you think they look like they did on the ultrasound?"
"You mean alien-like?"
I nodded.
"Maybe,” he admitted. “They're two weeks old, but that only makes them thirty-four weeks adjusted. They'd still have six-eight weeks to fatten up if they were still developing inside you. Since they're not, they likely look scrawny. Like you."
I snorted.
We literally knew nothing about our children.
Not their sizes when they were born. Not what color hair they had, or whether they were boys or girls. They were identical, that we knew. So, they were either both girls or both boys. But other than that, we knew nothing.
"Let's do this."
Reed pushed into the room backwards like he was heading into surgery, his gloved hands extended in front of him. Mask in place securely over his nose and mouth. His eyes, though.
They showed his fear.
He was just as nervous as me, but he was trying not to show it.
I stood up, and walked through, coming to a stop just inches inside the room.
It was overwhelming.
The overhead lights were dark. Machines were everywhere. Lights were blinking almost everywhere in a strobe-like effect. It was hot. And the crying. All of the babies sounded like they were crying.
The room itself was square, and huge infant incubators were taking up the majority of the room.
Ten in total.
Since this was a smaller county hospital, they didn’t have individual rooms for the babies. No, they were all crammed into this one too-small space. There was a counter high station right inside the door, and one nurse was typing away on the computer, not even looking up.
My eyes went for the nurse that I’d seen come to my room twice over the last week that I’d been in the hospital.
She was standing in between two of the huge glass-domed beds, a chart in her hand.
I made my way to her, knowing with certainty that she was next to my children.
She had other babies, of course, but I just knew that they were mine.
Like a homing beacon was inside of me, guiding my way straight to my babies.
Every step I took caused a twinge. One in my belly. One in my side. One in my back.
It didn’t matter, though.
Nothing did but meeting the babies that were mine.
Mine and Reed’s.
My steps were slow, and Reed stayed at my side, keeping the same pace.
When we arrived at the woman, my eyes automatically skittered every which way.
There was too much to look at. Machines. Lights. Monitors. Papers hanging off the incubators.
My eyes focused on the nurse.
She was writing something down, and when I got closer, I realized that it said, ‘Feeding Schedule’ on the top in bold black letters.
“They eat a lot,” I breathed, looking at all the times she’d written down.
The nurse smiled, and then gestured to the baby to her right. “This one just ate. I’m feeding baby B next!”
I looked over at baby A, and fell in love.
Tiny…so freakin’ tiny.
The baby looked like a doll. Honest to God, if I didn’t see the baby’s chest rising and falling, I would’ve said it was one.
One of those tiny ones that look small, even in a toddler’s arms.
“Oh, God,” I breathed.
Reed’s hand tightened at my hip.
I wanted to pick the baby up and cuddle it.
“You can’t hold them yet,” she murmured softly, reading my thoughts. “Their skin is like paper, and tears easily. You can touch them, though. Just be super careful.”
I swallowed.
I didn’t want that—their skin to tear.
Not at all.
“My mother happen to be here today?”
I blinked, surprised that I hadn’t remembered that Reed’s mother freakin’ worked in the NICU.
“Not today, no. She works opposite shifts of me. So, when I’m here, she’s not, and vice versa,” the nurse, her name was Temperance, explained. “But she’s gotten a lot of lovins in on these boys.”
Boys.
Holy, holy shit.
“Boys?” I squeaked.
The nurse grinned. “Boys.”
“Holy crap,” I breathed. “You gave me two boys, Reed.”
Reed was grinning ear to ear, and I could tell he was just as happy as I was.
Not that I didn’t want a girl—eventually—I just had always seen us having boys first.
I moved to the incubator and peered in the side, my eyes taking everything in at once.
The lines running every which way. One attached to his foot with what looked like a Band-Aid. Another one attached to the left side of his chest, followed by another on the right. There was an IV line in the baby’s head.
Oh, God.
His head.
I moaned.
Reed squeezed my hip again.
“You can do this if you’d like.”
I looked at her over my shoulder, wondering what she wanted me to do.
“What?”
I’d do anything.