by Celeste, B.
“Look at me,” he commands, his touch tightening a little. I obey. “I know things have been tough. There will always be bad days, right? We’ve both gone through them, but we’ve also come out on top every time. Milo is no exception, and our new baby won’t be either.”
The curtain opens before I can answer, and the same nurse who came in earlier greets me with a happy smile. “I’m glad to see you’re awake, Mrs. James. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” I clear my throat. “I wouldn’t mind some water though, if that’s okay.”
She nods once. “I can grab you some in just a minute. Did you speak with your husband about the blood test we took?”
My head still doesn’t wrap around the results, but I bob my head. “I’m pregnant.”
“Congratulations.” She glances down at a folder in her arms. “The doctor who looked over your labs mentioned seeing if you’re interested scheduling an appointment with Women’s Health since this is your primary hospital. I can get something set up now for you.”
“That would be great.” I look at Ollie for a moment, then back at the nurse. “I wouldn’t be able to get seen by Radiology for an ultrasound today, would I?”
The apologetic expression she casts tells me the answer before she verbalizes it. “I’m sorry, but that department is usually pretty busy. Women’s Health has been great with appointments though, so you’d be seen within the next week. It’d be faster than trying to get a tech to do one for you in Radiology.”
I just nod and agree to have her schedule something, knowing she’s right. Part of me just wants to know the answers. How is the baby? How far along am I? Does everything look okay?
My palm rests on my stomach. “This is nuts. Don’t you think so?”
“I think it’s amazing,” Ollie says.
I tilt my head, studying the way he stares at my stomach with the biggest smile on his face. “You really think that, huh?”
He meets my eyes. “I get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend, Charlie. Not only that, but you’ve given me children. How can I not think that’s amazing?”
My heart soaks up every word. When the nurse comes back with a cup of ice water and an appointment card with a date and time printed on the top, I thank her.
She tips her head. “If you’re feeling all right, I can take you to the surgical waiting room. When Milo is finished, someone will come to let you know. The number on his band matches the one on the paperwork you were given, and you can track the progress—when he’s out and in the Recovery room—on the television in there, so you know what’s going on.”
When we’re in the small little room with rows of chairs and other families, I hold onto Ollie’s hand and search the screen for Milo’s number. Each step of the surgical process is color coded. His is green. Surgery. When it turns purple then we’ll know he’s out and in Recovery.
“Why does this feel unreal?” I whisper, leaning my cheek on his shoulder.
“Because we’re happy,” he answers almost instantly. “Sometimes happiness feels like it’s too good to be true.”
I nibble on my lip, hefting a sigh. “I am. Happy, I mean. I know my reaction didn’t seem like it, but a baby…” I play with the ring on his finger, almost in awe. “It’s crazy but it’s what I want. Maybe a girl.”
He chokes. “Uh…”
I sit up. “You don’t want a girl?”
He physically pales. “It’s not that I don’t want one, but…” His shoulders tense. “I’ll feel more helpless than I already do if we have a girl. I know boys. Why do I feel like it’d be karma if it’d be a girl?”
I giggle. “You’d be overprotective.”
He hums.
“Like Everett,” I add.
He chuckles. “He’d have a fucking field day over it, wouldn’t he? Can’t say I blame him. Never did.”
“Don’t start with that.”
Lips pressing into a firm line, he gives me a quick glance before exhaling heavily through his nose. “It’s in the past now. It just gets me thinking about what I’d do in the situation. If we have a daughter and she gets involved with someone older than her, I’d…”
“You would what?”
“I’d lose it.”
Like Everett did. “Trust me, I get it. But we can’t be hypocrites either. How would that make us look as parents?”
One brow arches. “Good?”
I roll my eyes. “I mean, sure. Probably not in her eyes, but we’d be winning. Rational, even.”
“Ah.” He clicks his tongue. “We weren’t very rational for a while, were we? Looking back from a new perspective—”
“The perspective hasn’t changed,” I cut him off, sitting up to look at him. “Time may have, but we haven’t. Our past is ours. It’s messy and ugly and perfectly imperfect. It’s us. And you know what? I hope both Milo and baby number two get to experience lives like that.”
His cringe tells me he disagrees.
“Think about it, Ollie.” I put my hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Think about what it would be like if we hadn’t gone through what we did. Nothing came easy, and it made us stronger for it. We want them to be strong, don’t we? Any parent would.”
His hand covers mine, pressing it against his heartbeat. I absorb the rhythm, getting lost in its melody like I’ve done countless times before. I’d fall asleep to it, knowing I’d wake up to it the very next day and repeat it all again.
He relents. “You’re right.”
I smile. “I know I am.”
His laugh is low, amused. “The thought of a girl still terrifies me in case you were wondering. But I’d be happy.”
The truth spills so easily off my tongue for the world to hear. “Me too, Ollie. Me too.”
I’m not sure how we manage to keep conversation going long enough to pass the time, but as I’m digging into donut number two that Ollie bought me from the hospital café down the hall, our names are called by a dark-skinned man at the door.
My eyes quickly dart to the screen.
Purple.
We both meet him at the door, where he reaches out and shakes our hands. “I want to let you know that Milo is settled in Recovery and should wake up soon. It’s policy that only one person comes in at a time, but since he’s so young you both can. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
Tears well in my eyes that I quickly blink away as we follow him to the new unit our baby is resting in. Ollie holds my hand, which I grip so tight his skin turns white. He doesn’t comment on it, just lets me do what I need to seek comfort.
Stuffing what’s left of my donut into a napkin in my purse, the man opens the door for us and gestures toward the third green curtain off to the right. My feet carry me quickly into the little room, where a nurse is checking over his vitals.
In the middle of a large white bed is our precious baby laying on his stomach. His hands are sprawled out to his sides, his legs kicked out so he’s taking up as much room as possible. The sight of his torso rising and lowering with each breath slowly makes one lone tear fall down my cheek.
Ollie notices and brushes it away with his thumb, kissing my temple and guiding us over to Milo. “See, Charlie? He’s okay.”
Wrapped around his head is white gauze with little orange striped designs. Seeing him like this does ease some f the worry I’d obsessed over, but the gauze feeds what remains. But Ollie is right. Milo is out of surgery and okay.
The biggest step is complete.
Shortly after we settle into chairs by his bed, Dr. Woodshed comes in and tells us how well the surgery went. He doesn’t hesitate to answer questions we sprout out him even though they’re ones we’ve asked hundreds of times.
Well, I did anyway.
“My biggest suggestion?” Woodshed says, standing from the stool by the curtain. “Go out as a family in about a week. Give him a little time to recover from surgery, then plan a trip. In no time, he’ll be ready to come see us again and get the processer adjusted
.”
“It’ll be okay if we do that?” I ask.
Woodshed nods. “Like any surgery, it’s about keeping an eye on the surgical site. We’ll make a post-op appointment for two weeks from now where I’ll see how the little guy is doing. But no, I don’t see any problems with taking him anywhere. In fact, I encourage it. It can be a treat for him, a reward even for being so good.”
Ollie shakes the doctor’s hand again. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Woodshed waves it off. “I’m just doing my job, son. But you and your wife are more than welcome. I’ll see you both soon.”
My eyes focus on Milo as his little hands begin moving, followed by the softest noise. I’m by his side in a matter of seconds, reaching down and touching his hand so he knows I’m here.
The cry he lets out causes me to rub his back in circles like I do when he gets antsy. Ollie takes his other hand which Milo responds to quickly. His eyes open groggily like they do after a good night’s sleep, searching the room before seeing us beside the bed.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I coo, giving his back a little pat, causing him to yawn. “I hear you were so brave in there.”
His eyes move to Ollie. “Love you, buddy. We’re going to get you home soon, okay?”
Milo squirms and reaches out, causing me to react instantaneously. I pick him up carefully and bounce him in my arms while making more circular motions on his back. Normally his hands will go to my hair and tug, but I can tell the medicine has him drowsy. He rests his cheek against my shoulder and let’s his arms wrap loosely around my neck.
“I love you,” I whisper.
I can’t wait for the day he can hear it.
Chapter Eleven
Ollie
Once upon a time I wondered if I’d get the life so many others had. One filled with love, happiness, and things to look forward to. Considering how I grew up, the opportunities I had thanks to my parents, I was being ungrateful.
Before my depression diagnosis and therapy, I’d realized I wasn’t being ungrateful at all. I was searching for the things I watched everyone obtain easily. When Charlie came into my life, it clicked in place.
All of it.
And now, seeing the familiar curve of her stomach that seemingly popped overnight, I realize that I just needed to wait for the right person. It’s been a month since Milo’s surgery. In that time, we found out Charlie is almost done with her first trimester, leaving us both surprised over how far along she is. What I didn’t tell her is that I suspected it—the mood swings, hormones, and food cravings were all there. Still, it seems like we have even less time to prepare for a second child. We have the room, but the space isn’t kid appropriate. The walls are too bland, and the furniture is minimal.
Between planning to announce her pregnancy and making sure Milo is healing well, we’ve been busy. Since getting the all-clear from Woodshed, we’ve gone on little outings with Milo to celebrate. In a matter of days, we’ll be able to go back in and watch our baby move on to the final phase of the process.
Charlie pulls me away from my thoughts with a small nudge to my side. “Should we be alarmed that our son is more interested in the lion cage than the cute penguins?”
Milo has been more attentive during our trip past the lion exhibit at the local zoo than anything else we’ve seen.
“We should get him a cat,” she concludes.
Chuckling, I say, “Him, huh?”
She bats her lashes at me. “There are studies that show the benefits of children growing up with pets. Seems like he loves cats, so it seems logical.”
“Just admit you want a cat, Charlie.”
“Milo wants a cat,” she insists.
I shake my head and keep pushing the stroller, moving on to the tiger habitat. There are a few more people around the glass watching as one of the large cats jumps onto a log and perches.
“See!” Charlie gestures to Milo, who reaches out with his little finger, pointing at the tigers. “Come on, you have to admit he acts like he likes them.”
Sighing, I agree. “We’ll talk about it more later. We have enough to think about, don’t you think?”
Her bottom lip sticks out. “But what if I told you there are kittens up for adoption at that shelter near the school? Orange ones, Ollie!”
I blink. “And you say it’s Milo who wants a cat. Did he show you the adoption flyers too?”
“We can get a boy and name him Tony.”
I stop walking. “Like the tiger?”
Her expression screams duh.
“Isn’t that…” I make a face. “I don’t know, a little unoriginal?”
She gasps. “Unoriginal would be me calling it Garfield. Let’s be real, Oliver James. Anyone who gets an orange cat thinks about naming it Garfield.”
“Or Tony,” I add just to tease her.
Her groan is cute, making it hard to hide my amused smile. “Fine. What about Cheeto? I think that would be a cool name.”
“Like I said, we’ll talk about it later.”
“Ollie!”
“Charlie.” I laugh. “I’m trying to be logical here. We’ve got a baby on the way. That and Milo’s journey should be our main focus.”
I can tell she agrees by the way her expression softens. It’s cute how badly she wants a cat, for Milo and her, but I’m worried we’re adding too much to our plate.
“Hey.” I reach out and brush her arm. “I want to give you the world, Charlie. One day, we’ll expand. If you want a cat, we’ll get a cat. If you want a dog, we’ll get a dog. Hell, a hamster? Game on. But right now, we need to focus on the kids. On us. On our family.”
All she has to say is, “Our cat would eat the hamster, Ollie. Duh.” And somehow I fall a little more in love with her.
Pushing the stroller further past the various feline habitats, I can’t help but notice how both Milo’s and Charlie’s faces light up. It doesn’t take long to know I’m in a losing battle. Before I know it, I’ll be house training a cat and replaced in bed by the furry thing.
The furry thing named Cheeto.
“What are you thinking about?” My not-so-innocent wife asks.
Shaking my head, I study the people we pass and give a few of them a small smile and head nod in greeting. “Nothing of importance.”
“Liar.”
I just hum and watch the animals.
“We’re getting a cat, aren’t we?”
Nothing.
“We totally are.”
Silence.
“Is now a good time to tell you that the shelter is expecting us on Wednesday afternoon?”
When I finally look at her again, she smiles that beautiful fucking smile that makes it hard to be upset. As annoying as she can be, I love her. Unconditionally. I’m probably lucky she didn’t just adopt a cat and hide it in the music room before telling me.
“You’re something else, Charlie.” I grin to myself and this world we’ve created. The world I questioned I’d get to experience when I was at my lowest.
When I get to those moments, the ones I struggle pulling myself from, all I need to remember is this image. The one of the glowing woman with vibrant blonde hair, and a tiny blond baby to match.
Both smiling.
Both pure.
Both … mine.
Chapter Twelve
Charlie
The anticipation weaves itself into every fiber of my being as we watch Milo play with some of the plush kid toys Woodshed provides in his little office. There are computers and wires everywhere, making the moment surreal. Ollie keeps one hand on my back at all times, while the other rubs Milo’s arm.
“Okay,” Woodshed, says, rolling over to us with tiny hearing aids in his hands. “Keep in mind these ear molds will need to be replaced every month or two as he grows up. We’ve talked about cost before, and these will certainly add up after a while since his ears will develop with time. The hospital does have a program to assist families with hearing impaired children if worst comes to worst
.”
Ollie’s hand stops caressing my back. “I appreciate that, doctor. We’re covered though.”
Woodshed simply nods and smiles. “Are you ready? I’m going to put these in and then play around with the various settings. What I want you to do is talk quietly to him. I’ll intervene and try getting his attention to see if he can hear from both processors. Okay?”
It’s hard to swallow, much less talk, so all I do is bob my head up and down. Ollie’s hand rounds my shoulder and squeezes in comfort. His body tenses beside me as Woodshed places the earpieces. Milo wiggles and tries capturing his hand, causing us all to chuckle over his curiosity. When he’s all finished, Woodshed rolls back to his computer and clicks on a few things.
“Ready?” Ollie and I nod. “I’m turning them on in three, two, one…” The mouse clicks one final time before our eyes lower to Milo.
Woodshed gestures for us to talk.
I take a deep breath. “Milo?”
Milo continues playing without any reaction to my voice. My eyes meet Woodshed’s, who gives me a reassuring smile.
“Don’t get discouraged. I’ll keep turning the volume up a little more each time until he can hear you. Just take a deep breath and talk to him.”
He adjusts the sound and nods at me.
“Milo?” My voice breaks a little, so I clear it and tell myself that Woodshed is right. I can’t get discouraged if the first few volumes don’t work.
Ollie kisses Milo’s head. “Buddy? Can you hear us?”
Nothing.
Woodshed adjusts it again, waving his hand at us for a third time. When I put my hand on Milo’s leg, I try smiling past the fear that this may not work at all. It’s happened before, though rare. I’ve read about it. Watched the videos. The thought of our son being one of the few who won’t be able to hear…
It breaks my heart.
“Milo?” Instantly, Milo drops the toy and looks up at me. His blue eyes are wide, causing my heart to hammer so hard it physically hurts. “Oh, my God. Hi, baby boy! Can you hear Mommy?” Milo’s little lips part in awe as he stares unblinkingly at me.