21. Isabelle

Chapter 21

Isabelle

Six months later

I wake up in the middle of the night, and at first, I think it's just the usual every two hour pee break I need now that I'm stuffed so full of baby there's no room for my bladder.

But I don't feel like I have to pee. I actually feel…great.

I've been blessed with this pregnancy. Mack has taken great care of me, insisting I stop working two weeks ago, when I started napping in the middle of the day. Still, this last stretch of my third trimester has been a challenge. Carrying Mack's enormous baby was always going to be a lot for my little body.

Right now, though, I feel like a million bucks. A last-minute to-do list starts to form in my mind. I could re-wash the baby's newborn sleepers. And maybe vacuum the nursery again.

"Where are you going?" Mack mumbles as soon as I start to slide out from under his heavy arm.

"Go back to sleep," I whisper.

He sits straight up. "Is it time?"

"What?" I laugh. "No. I just want to do some laundry. And maybe make some waffles?"

"At two in the morning?"

"It's almost three."

"That doesn't make the laundry and sudden interest in cooking less suspicious." He flicks on the bedside lamp and pulls on a t-shirt. "Any cramps?"

I roll my eyes. "Zero cramps, Mr. Emerson."

"Really? You're giving me the Mister treatment right now?" He grabs the hospital bag we've already packed three times and sets it on the bed.

"Seriously, Mack, we don't need—" I freeze.

He looks at me.

I stare back.

And then I moan, folding over, as a contraction seizes my belly from the inside and wraps all the way around to my back. "Oh, God."

"I'm calling the midwife."

I can barely hear him over the roar in my ears. My whole body has been consumed by the unexpected sensation. This is nothing like the little contractions I've felt over the last week that our midwife said were practice.

Practice?

Nothing prepared me for this.

Mack comes closer. He's using his firm boss voice. And then his hand is on my back, pressing firmly where I need it, thank God , and he leans over me.

"Okay, little one, this is probably the real deal. I'm right here. I'm not going to leave your side. We're going to time a few of these contractions, and then we're going to the hospital soon."

I moan and nod. Yes, I want that. I want to go where the experts are.

He sets his phone next to my hand on the bed and keeps rubbing my back until the contraction ends.

As soon as I can breathe again, I surge upright and race around the bed. "Come on, we have to go."

"Baby, wait."

"No, we can't wait. Why did I wake up, Mack? Was that happening in my sleep? Did my body know? Why did I want to make waffles ?"

"It's called nesting. You gave me a whole book to read on it."

I keep going, my panic driving me straight past his calm, logical explanation. "I need pants."

We sleep naked. Why do we sleep naked? Now I have to get dressed, and I can feel my body already ramping up for that again.

"How about a dress?" Mack is beside me again, his voice firm, his hand on the small of my back. "Hold on to the wall."

"Why?"

"Because it's been a couple of minutes and I think you're going to—" He stops as I moan and grab the wall. "That."

It's the longest minute of my life.

As soon as it passes, Mack stops rubbing my back and pulls a cotton maxi dress over my head.

Good enough.

Then he picks me up in his arms and gets me to the front door before the next one hits.

"I can't do this," I whisper.

"Yes, you can." Mack's hands settle on my hips. Steady. Sure. "You're such a good girl. You did all the research. You're ready."

"I'm not."

He kisses my temple. "You don't want to make me a Daddy?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Too late for that." He chuckles. "The car is here."

I press my face into his chest and sob. It's not pretty.

He carries me outside. The driver gets the door, and then we're in the limo.

The drive is a painful blur.

But the bright lights and quiet hum of the hospital bring everything into shocking clarity.

I'm having this baby tonight. Before the sun rises, my midwife promises. As Mack keeps rubbing my back, she works on my breathing, getting it slower and more deliberate.

And then every contraction becomes a group project. We work together, Mack praising me every step of the way.

"You can do it."

"That's it, that's the way. You're such a good girl."

"Look at you, being so strong. So brave."

"You're incredible, little one."

When it comes time to push, I'm exhausted. Mack insists on holding me, my back to his chest, cradling me as the midwife guides our baby into the world. When his little wriggly body is placed on my chest, it's Mack who holds him there, his huge hand covering our son's whole back.

"He's amazing," my husband whispers. "I'm so proud of you."

I get choked up. I couldn't have done it without him.

My eyes flutter shut as Mack sings a low lullaby to our baby. It's not really a nap, exactly, but I drift in and out, still in shocked disbelief. The rest feels so good after hours of labor.

Once I'm given the all clear, Mack eases out from behind me and they help me sit up properly in bed so I can nurse my baby for the first time.

He's a hungry little pink-faced monster who latches on right away, startling the nurse, who was prepared to help us get the hang of it.

"Isabelle's a natural," Mack tells her.

"It's not me," I whisper, overwhelmed by the sensation of feeling my son suckle well. I glance up and Mack is just staring at me with a look of utter wonder.

He leans in and kisses the top of my head. "You're so beautiful."

It can't possibly be true. I'm soaked in sweat and disheveled in the worst ways. The last time I brushed my hair must have been eighteen hours ago. Not to mention my body has been through a shocking change. My belly is still swollen, my tits are literally leaking, and I don't want to think about the rest of it.

But he doesn't look away.

And in his gaze, I see that he means it.

I feel so utterly loved in this moment that I've already forgotten how hard labor was. I would give this man all the babies in the world.