31. Peyton

31

When I wake, it's dark out. The curtains to my room are open and my husband is cast in a glow thanks to the moonlight streaming through my window. I try not to move much, my stomach hurts where they stapled my stomach back together. Lightly, my hand touches my now empty womb and I find myself fighting back the tears. I know the triplets are here, but that doesn't assuage the pain I feel from not having them inside me anymore. And it definitely doesn't help that I haven't been able to hold them. I saw them briefly when I came out of recovery, thanks to my family. They insisted I be able to at least see them through the window. At least Noah was there with our babies, talking to them. Loving them.

I blink and refocus my eyes on my husband. He's sleeping in a chair and shirtless. For a moment, the sight of him confuses me. That is until I see he's holding something. No, not something, but one of our babies.

"Noah." My voice is hoarse. My throat is dry from the meds. I clear away the roughness and say his name again. I'm about to say it for a third time when I stop myself. He's sleeping and whomever he's holding, is sleeping as well. The book says never to wake a sleeping baby unless you're trying to get them onto a different schedule.

I press the arrow on the control and raise the head portion of my bed. The noise doesn't wake him and while I am thankful, I'm sort of not. I want to hold the baby and bond with my child. My options are limited. I can't get out of bed without help and I don't want to yell. So, I stare at my husband and wait for him to wake.

And I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Finally, he stirs and that's when I see it—the pink hat. My heart zings and races while my throat tightens with emotions. I yearn for her, to see and touch her. To have her with me. I want to nurse and develop a connection with her. The boys as well, but it'll be days before I can hold them. It should've been days before Noah could hold her.

"Noah," I say again, but this time louder. He opens his eyes and a slow, sexy grin spreads across his face.

"Hey, babe." He stands and his gray sweatpants sag a bit. I'm thankful it's just us in the room. He comes toward me, his large hand holding our daughter to his chest. She's so tiny compared to him. He'll have no problem holding all three babies at the same time, where I know I'm going to struggle. Tears spill over, wetting my cheeks. Noah by my side instantly.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Noah sits in the chair next to my bed. I want him next to me, on this same mattress but I can't move, not without assistance at least.

"I don't know," I tell him. "So many emotions." I wave my hands in front of my face, trying to quell the tears.

"Do you want to hold her?"

I nod furiously and hold my hands out for her. Noah sets our daughter in my arms, and he works to cover her up. "Hi," I say quietly as my mind works through a barrage of emotions. She's . . . everything. I choke back a sob as I take in her dark hair, button nose, and puffy cheeks. Her fingers are itty bitty and she's light as a feather. My finger trails down the side of her face and I swear her cheek lifts in a smile. It's probably my imagination, but I'm going to let it run and believe my daughter smiled at me.

"We were doing the skin-on-skin bonding," Noah says as he stands next to me. "You should do it."

I nod and he unsnaps my nightgown, exposing me. His hands guide her to my chest. At first, I shiver and then it's like a flood of heat and energy washes through me and into her. Another wave of emotion washes over me when I feel her heart thump against my chest. It's hard to describe and I can only liken it to fulfillment. I'm meant to be a mother. I feel that deep in my bones.

"She's so tiny."

"She's strong and mighty," Noah says. "Very strong. Already breathing on her own."

"The boys?"

"They're thriving. They're with our dads right now. Our parents are taking shifts."

"Are they going to be okay?"

"They're already perfect, Peyton. Nothing out of the ordinary. The steroid shot worked. Their lungs are fully developed. You did your job as their mama. Now the staff here will do theirs."

"I want to hold them."

"You can, in the morning," he tells me. "We'll go down to the unit and spend the morning with our babies, as a family."

"We need to name them," I say as I nuzzle my daughter's head.

"I know. I brought our list."

I look at Noah. He leans down and kisses me. "We're parents."

"I know," he says with a smile. "Of three. We definitely don't do things the easy way."

"Easy is boring."

There's a light knock on the door and a nurse comes in. "Hi," she says quietly. "I've come to take baby girl Westbury back to her brothers."

"Oh?" I don't move a muscle to let my daughter go.

"Only for monitoring and bonding. We like to keep multiples together. They flourish better," she says.

I look at Noah, with unshed tears. "Just until the morning," he says as he takes her from me. He sets our daughter into the cradle and the nurse closes the top. I sob quietly as she takes her out of the room.

"It's for her well-being," Noah says as he sits next to me. "They'll feed and change her and put her back in the incubator with her brothers. And in the morning, we'll have breakfast and then spend the morning with them."

Noah takes my hand and kisses it. "We need to rest because once we go home with these kiddos, we won't rest until we move them into their dorm rooms in eighteen years."

"I just woke up."

"Yeah, I know. But just think, if you close your eyes and sleep, when you wake, you'll get to meet your boys."

"Do they look like you?"

Noah smiles. "I think they look like us. Our daughter, though, she looks like you. I said it from the second I saw her."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Like the luckiest man alive."

The morning goes exactly to plan with a little extra. I take a much-needed shower, welcoming the pounding water on my back to work out a kink from the uncomfortable mattress and go for a walk around the maternity ward, where I spent more time crying than walking. It's hard walking by rooms, hearing babies cry, and not being with mine right now. Knowing they're in the hospital with me isn't as comforting as one might think.

Noah wheels me to the NICU. He thinks it's funny and tries to do wheelies and pulls the "no hands" trick when we go down a ramp. When I balk, he says something ridiculous about boys and pranks and all I can think is I'm in for it. My hope is our daughter will side with me. I definitely need a sidekick in this family now.

We go into the NICU, wash up and put on the appropriate attire. It's quiet in the nursery minus the sound of machines beeping or humming. Noah pushes me toward a curtained area and when he pulls it back, I gasp at the sight before me. It's not our children that has my attention, but our fathers and my brother. They're all asleep and shirtless, sitting upright in a semi-circle near the incubator the babies stay in. Each of them holding one of the babies. I tap Noah's hand and he leans down.

"Take a picture."

He does as I request, hopefully snapping a few.

The boys are with our dads, while Quinn holds our daughter. When I look closer, her tiny fingers are wrapped around his index finger. Tears well instantly. Those two are going to be close and I love that for Quinn.

"Did you get a good one?" Noah hands me his phone. I heart every single photo, loving each one for different reasons.

I don't know if it's our presence or the fact that Liam senses us staring at him, but he startles and our son whimpers. Cue another wave of tears and emotions. I thought I was emotional during my pregnancy, but this crying shit is for the birds. Hopefully, once my body adjusts the waterworks will slow down.

"Morning," Noah says to his dad. "Which one do you have?"

"Boy A," Liam says and then adds, "Who needs a name or I'm going to start calling him Rocketship."

"You will not," I say to my uncle. "He'll have a name today." I reach back and pat Noah's hand. We have a list and after I spend some time with my babies, they'll have names.

Our voices wake Quinn and my dad. Quinn smiles sheepishly when I give him a fun pointed look. He smiles and shrugs.

"She's my first niece," he says. "She'll need me to keep the boys away."

"Won't her brothers do that?" I ask him.

"Sure, when they're older." Quinn makes no attempt to move our daughter from his chest. "She looks like you and Elle; it's in my nature to protect her."

"I appreciate you."

Now he stands and takes a few steps toward me. I expect him to hand me my daughter, but he holds her tightly to his chest. Quinn leans down. "I'm so damn proud of you," he says and then kisses me on my forehead.

Liam kicks my dad's foot. He startles, looks around, smiles, and closes his eyes again. Looking extremely content to stay there with his grandson on his chest.

The nurse comes over and doesn't say anything about the scene in front of her. She giggles though, which makes me laugh as well.

"Okay, gentlemen, I think mama wants some time with her boys."

My dad and Liam grumble something unintelligible and stand, and if I had to guess, reluctantly hand the boys over to the nurse. She sets them in their incubator, and then two bare chested, tattooed men block my line of vision. They both lean down and press their lips to my cheeks, each thanking me for making them grandpas.

"Have you decided on what you want to be called?" I ask them.

They look at each other and smile. "I'm going to be grandpa," my dad says.

"And I'm going with gramps. I like the shortened, much cooler version. And we both know I'm way cooler," my father-in-law adds.

"Shut the f—" My dad stops himself before dropping the f-bomb in the nursery. "Let's go round up our wives while we discuss the level of coolness you think you have." My dad puts his hand on Liam's shoulder and gives him a slight push. "Quinn."

"But—" Quinn protests and then sighs. "Here's your daughter," he mumbles as he hands her to me. "This isn't fair." He reaches for his shirt and then mutters, "Someone has to go back on tour," in a high-pitched voice meant to sound like Elle.

"I'll miss you," I tell him as he kisses my cheek.

"I'll be here until tomorrow."

"Okay, we'll be out in a bit, to tell everyone their names."

"One better be Quinn," he says, laughing.

When everyone is gone, the nurse helps me get situated in the chair. "Do you want to do skin-on-skin?" she asks.

"I do, but I want to hold them first," I tell her.

"This is boy A," she says as she places my son on my right side. Noah's there, with our daughter in his arms, looking at us.

"And this is boy B. I'll give you some time." She pulls the curtain shut behind her.

Noah pulls a stool up next to me and sits down with our daughter. I take each one of our babies in and let the tears roll down my cheeks. It's hard to tell who the boys look like, they're definitely a cross between the both of us, and I know the older they get, the more defined their features will be.

"They're perfect."

"They really are," Noah says as he touches the boys with his finger. "Mighty and tiny is what I've said to people. You did good, Mama."

I kiss the boys. It's easy to bring them to my lips with how light they feel. Boy B grunts or mumbles, it could've been either and something he's already picked up on from his uncle.

"Has Elle seen them?"

"Only through the window."

"Oh, that's so sad for my sister. She'll get lots of auntie time before she delivers."

"I don't think she's worried," he says. "She's more concerned with you."

"Really?" I look at my husband.

"Before I brought her in—" Noah looks at our daughter. "Elle was asleep in the chair next to your bed, and she tried to go be with you in recovery, but they wouldn't let her. I know it's a twin thing—your thing with her. She needed to be with you. I imagine she's a bit torn up inside."

"Wow."

"I really hope the babies have the same bond you and your sister have. While a mystery to most of us, seeing you two together is something of a marvel. The way you're always in sync with each other, know what the other is feeling or know when you need your twin. The bond is unbreakable. I want that for our babies."

"They'll have it," I tell him. I don't know how, but it's a twin thing and I'm praying our daughter is included in it.

Noah suggests I do some skin-on-skin with the boys. He helps maneuver them and then reclines my chair. I'm holding them and basking in our body-to-body contact when he places our daughter in the middle.

"Now mommy has her babies," he says as he wipes at my tears. "This is my picture-perfect moment, Peyton. Seeing you with our children."

"Really? It's not because my boobs are out?"

Noah laughs and then deadpans. "I say something nice, and you have to ruin it with a joke?"

I nod. "I'm so emotional right now I need some humor."

My husband sighs. He kisses me, and then kisses each of the babies. "Nothing but perfection," he says.

We stay like this, with the babies on my chest and Noah next to me, until it's time to feed them with the little droppers of the colostrum the nurse helped me pump earlier in the morning. After their feeding and the light pats on their back to get them to burp, Noah and I give them a sponge bath, which none of them care for. Their cries sound like they're saying la, to which the nurse assures me will change to screaming in months, if not weeks.

After the babies are settled, Noah looks at me. "It's time."

I sigh. "Pull out the list."

He takes a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and sits down next to me.

The nurse hands us a pen. "We've been waiting too," she says, laughing.

"All right, let's name our children," I say to Noah. "And pray they like their names when they're adults and we don't scar them for life."

Noah chuckles and then reads the list of names we've compiled over the months.