30. Noah

30

There's a board or a wall of some type blocking Peyton's view, which is a good thing. She doesn't need to see what they're doing to her body, and frankly, neither do I. When it's time for me to cut the cord, I will, but I won't be the father who will tell his children later in life that he watched their birth. I saw what a c-section looks like during some parenting class we took—that was more than enough for me.

I want to touch my wife, but I can't. I spent five minutes with the nurse, scrubbing up so I could be in this room, I'm not about to jeopardize anything, especially with them cutting Peyton open.

"I love you."

"I love you too," she says right back.

C-sections are safe. I know this. I did the research, but there are instances where things can go wrong. To say I'm worried about Peyton would be an understatement. Her body has been through a lot, and I'm honestly surprised she was able to carry the triplets for as long as she has. She was diligent though and worked her ass off to protect them, to keep them growing inside of her as long as possible. Her moving to Beaumont was the smartest thing she could've done and I'm forever grateful to my parents for being there for her.

"Okay, Peyton," Dr. Harmon says.

The next sound we hear is music to our ears. Crying fills the room and everyone seems happy to hear it.

"Baby boy A is out. Dad, do you want to do the honors?"

"I'll be right back," I tell my wife, longing to kiss her or squeeze her hand.

I move behind the screen, where Peyton can no longer see. The baby is tiny and won't even take up the length of my arm. I do my best to keep my worries buried. We knew they'd be small, but knowing something and seeing it firsthand are entirely different. I want to hold him but the staff is busy making sure he's perfect. I think he is because he's my son. I look him over as if I'm the inspector general or something. Ten fingers and toes. Knobby knees, puffy cheeks, and kissable lips. He stretches, his tiny fists closed as the team wipe him down.

My throat seizes as tears stream down my face. I have a son. We have a son. We created a life and while I know there are two more coming, this guy is my first and will always hold a special place in my heart.

"Noah?" Peyton's voice pulls me to the present.

"I'm coming, babe," I tell her. "Just checking out our boy." As soon as I sit down next to her again, her eyes fill with tears. "He's perfect. Look." I move out of her line of vision so she can see where they've taken him. "They're going to get him cleaned up and then they'll bring him over to you."

"Okay."

We hear more cries and somehow, I know it's my other son. "Be right back," I say to Peyton. "Duty calls."

Baby boy B is small as well and I guess it makes sense. They were crammed in there tightly and Peyton isn't very big to begin with. Again, I inspect every detail of our middle child. I don't know what it's like to be a middle child but I read it can be tough. Not for this guy. I won't allow it. I'll have his back, no matter what. Even when his princess of a sister is picking on him.

"He's perfect, Peyton." Again, I'm out of the way so she can watch the staff with our son. "One more to go and then they'll bring them over here."

Another wail and for whatever reason, a smile spreads across my face. I move to the other side of the screen and glimpse my daughter, our daughter, for the first time. She's bigger than her brothers, which is comical in the sense Peyton wanted them to protect their little sister. I think it's going to be a good chunk of years until that happens.

"Peyton, she's gorgeous."

"And perfect?"

"Yes, perfect."

The staff take her from me, and I go back to my wife. "Ah, babe. They're perfect. With all ten fingers and toes. The boys don't have any hair, but our daughter does. She looks just like you."

While they finish putting my wife back together, three nurses come over pushing incubators. Each takes one of the babies out. You can tell they're pros at this and know exactly how to put all three babies with their mother. Tears stream down my face and while I know she'll hate me for this now, I take a selfie of my wife with our children.

I sit behind, thankful for the stool on wheels, and rest my chin on her bed. "My god, Peyton, look at what we made."

"They're so tiny."

"Baby A and B are three and a half pounds, which is really good when there are three. Baby girl is four and a half pounds. You did really well, Peyton," the nurse says.

"Thank you."

"We're going to take these kiddos to the NICU. Dad will be able to come up and see them in about thirty minutes. Mom, we're going to take you to recovery. Dad, you can join her after you've notified your family."

I show Peyton the photo and then kiss her. "Thank you. So much."

"You helped," she says, smiling. "I should be the one thanking you."

"I'm going to go see everyone and then I'll come to you."

She shakes her head. "Go to the babies. They need you a bit more than I do right now."

"Peyton."

"Please, Noah. I'll heal faster knowing you're with them."

I nod and kiss her again as they start to wheel her out. I don't bother taking off the paper gown, the hat, or the booties. I've seen men do this on TV so many times, I figure why the hell not. Before I go out there and share the amazing news with our families, I pause and lean against the wall, bending at the waist to try and keep my emotions in check. To no avail though because tears stream down my face. I'm over-the-moon happy but I also feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. I'm going to miss Peyton's bump. I'm going to miss talking to my children and reading them stories. Sure, I'll be able to talk to them while I hold or feed them, but something hits different knowing I could do that while they were growing inside of her. Like, maybe I had a part in their development, too. I know I have the daily photos, and videos of them babies moving, but pressing my hand to Peyton's stomach and feeling them kick me is something I miss greatly.

"Are you okay?" I glance at the feet next to me and then stand tall. It's one of the nurses from Peyton's delivery room.

"A little overwhelmed."

"It's expected. Your wife is in recovery. You can see her."

"She wants me with the babies."

The nurse smiles. "Most of them do. I'll take you to NICU."

I glance at the door. "I need to tell our family first. They're waiting."

The nurse nods and points down the hall. "When you're ready, I'll be at the desk there. If I'm not, another nurse will take you. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

After another minute or so, I push my way through the double doors, praying my eyes are not red rimmed. The last thing I want to do is strike fear in Katelyn and Harrison, wondering if their daughter is okay.

My mom is the first to stand, followed by Katelyn and Elle. Slowly, everyone starts to gather.

I clear my throat. "The boys are tiny. They weigh just over three pounds. The girl is a bit bigger at four and a half. They're in NICU, which as you know is standard."

"And my daughter?" Katelyn asks, her voice breaking. "How's my baby?"

"Peyton's in recovery. She's seen and held her babies." I pull my phone out, bring up the photo, and hand it to Katelyn, sensing she needs confirmation of Peyton's well-being more than anything. She covers her mouth to hold back a sob as she studies the photo.

"She looks like my girls."

"She does." I confirm. "I know you can't see her hair, but it's dark. The boys are a bit bald, but hopefully that will change soon." I scratch the top of my head and laugh, enjoying how my hair has grown out since I shaved it in solidarity with Ben when he went through chemo.

Katelyn turns the phone to my mom. "Look at what our babies did," she says in a hushed tone. Both grandmas start to cry and hug each other. I imagine for them this moment is pretty indescribable for them. From being best friends to now grandmas. My dad takes the phone and Harrison huddles around him. They're heads are down but I hear sniffles. I step closer, only to have both of them look at me. I've only ever been afraid of Harrison a handful of times—this is one of those times.

"You're going to be a damn good father, Noah," Harrison says. I take this as a statement of fact. If I'm not, he's going to hurt me. The threat is there and understood.

"Welcome to the Hot Dad's Club," my dad says as he gives me a hug. Leave it to him to make light of the situation. It seems everyone hears him and laughs.

Harrison and I hug, and he congratulates me. When we part, Elle's standing there with worry on her face.

"Is my sister okay?"

I nod. "She's perfect. She's in recovery and wants me to go be with the babies while they tend to her."

Elle hugs me, bump and all. "I'll see if they'll let me in recovery. I don't want her to be alone."

"I appreciate that," I tell her.

Quinn hands me my phone, which I had honestly forgotten about. "I think boy B looks like me," he says, smiling.

"Definitely." We hug hard and he pats my back with his fist.

"Damn, I didn't think I'd be this emotional over my sister having a kid."

"Three," I point out.

"Yeah," he says, shaking his head. "I can't wait to hold one of them. Hell, all three."

"Me, neither."

It's like everyone needed to digest the magnitude of the moment and once they did, my family was well before they started in with a round of congratulatory remarks, pats on the shoulder for a job well done, and then cigars. My dad opens a box and hands them to everyone waiting.

"Names, yet?" My mom asks.

"No, not yet. Once we get a chance to spend time with the babies, we'll name them. We have a list of finalists."

"All I know is my niece has my name as her middle name," Elle says proudly.

"She does," I tell her. "At least she has a middle name."

Everyone laughs.

We have a round of hugs and I promise to take a lot of photos and send them so the grandparents can gush about their grandchildren.

I head to the nurse's station and as promised the nurse takes me to the NICU where the babies are. I pass by the large window and peer into the room of cradles. At quick glance, there are four babies in there right now, three of which are mine. Briefly, I wonder why the other is there and quickly pray he or she is okay.

Before we enter the nursery, the nurse shows me where to wash up, and tells me to put gloves and a mask on. After doing so, she takes me to my three children, boy A Westbury, boy B Westbury, and girl Westbury, all in the same incubator.

As I look around, I see how open this place is and how anyone can stand at the window to look in on the babies. Peyton has a ton of privacy, but the babies don't.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a pain, but is there something that can be done about their privacy?"

She nods and closes the curtain surrounding them. "Whenever you or Mrs. Westbury aren't in there, we'll have a staff member with them at all times."

"I appreciate it."

The nurse goes over the rules and then tells me Dr. Ashford will be in to speak with me shortly before leaving. It warms me to no end, knowing Nick will be the one caring for my children. I'm torn on what to do. I have three children who need my undivided attention and there's no way I can give it to them at the same time.

"Shit."

On the other side of the curtain, I hear giggling and find myself smiling.

"Don't worry, Mr. Westbury. You're not the only father we've encountered with multiples. One at a time is your best and only bet," the voice behind the curtain says.

"Right, okay then." I pull the chair toward the incubator and reach my hand in. The space is warm and honestly feels inviting. I touch each of their cheeks as tears spill over. I think about what I want to say to them, but the words don't come easily. Do I say, "hey guys?" or is that insulting to my daughter? I know she doesn't know the difference now, but eventually she will.

With a deep breath, I lean toward the opening and say the cheesiest thing I can. "Hi, I'm your dad." I feel awkward and rather silly, but I know it needs to be done. Peyton and I learned about early bonding through the books we read and the classes we took on parenting.

I clear my throat, take another deep breath, and let the tears slide down my face. Silly or not, I need to do this. They need to know who I am and what my voice sounds like.

"Like I said, I'm your dad and I'm so happy you're finally here. Your mommy is resting but she can't wait to hold you. So, until she can be here with you, you're stuck with me, and probably your grandparents. That's the thing you'll never fully grasp, but you have this massive family. They're all waiting in the lobby to meet you. Your Aunties Elle and Paige are going to love you to pieces and spoil the crap out of you, and then there's your Uncle Quinn—he wants to teach you all about music and art. You'll get your sports knowledge from me and Uncle Mack. We love our sports, but you know what—your mommy is the smartest when it comes to sports. I wouldn't have the career I do without her.

"I know you don't understand a single thing I'm saying. I wish you did though because then you'd know how much you are loved. How your mommy can't wait to hold you. You see, I know she loves me, but once she gets her hands on you three, I'm moving down the line in the pecking order. I'm supposed to be the one protecting you and being a macho dad, but I'm going to need at least one of you to have my back. Especially when it comes to your mom.

"I don't know much about being a dad, but I know what it's like to be a big brother, and boys let me tell you this, it's your job to protect your sister. She's going to look up to you. Your mom and I will protect the three of you, but you need to have each other's backs, always." I continue to caress their cheeks, hoping my time is spread equally among them. "Thank you for making our family complete."

"Mr. Westbury?"

"Yes?" I clear my throat.

The curtain parts and another nurse steps in. "Your family is at the window. Would you like to show them the babies?"

I look back at my three. "What do you think?" I know they're not going to answer me, but at least I gave them the option. After nodding, the nurse opens the curtain and then pulls the incubator toward the window. Despite the thick glass, I can hear each and every one of them oohing and ahhing. They wave, tap the glass, and say, "Hi baby," as if the triplets can hear them.

The nurse removes the top of the incubator and encourages me to tilt each baby up. I do, giving our family ample viewing.

"When can I hold them?" I ask her, while I have my daughter on display.

"As soon as Dr. Ashford gives you the okay. But from what I've seen, you'll be able to hold your daughter soon. She's very strong."

Like her mother.