Happy Birthday from theladyingrey
Happy birthday, dearest! Just a little pile of sweetness for you. (Apologies in advance for inevitable factual inaccuracies.)
Love and snuggles,
-Diane (theladyingrey)
………………………………
"Mr. Cullen?"
I lift my head from my hands, the weight of it too much to bear somehow. Beside me, Bella is sleeping, and it's a relief to see her eyes closed in rest. It's a relief to not have to be strong right now.
With my guard down, I look up at the nurse who has spoken my name and reply roughly, "Yes?"
As my eyes try to focus through the grit and the fatigue, her face emerges from the blur. It's a kind face. Soft.
I'm so grateful for all the kindness we have found here.
"I'm sorry to bother you," the nurse says quietly. "But I thought you'd want to know…" She hesitates and my chest cracks open, my eyes instinctively going to my wife while my heart moves toward the tiny girl down the hall.
The one so tiny we can't even hold her.
My throat dry, I crack out, "What?"
The nurse smiles. "She's fine, Mr. Cullen. They're both fine. I just wanted to tell you that Elizabeth is out of surgery, and that everything went beautifully. She's back in the NICU if you want to see her."
Numbly, I nod, glancing at Bella to find her eyes still closed, her mouth more relaxed than it's been since we got here. For a moment, I let my mind drift back to those first few terrifying hours. The labor that couldn't possibly be -- not so soon. The doctors' faces. The tiny bundle of a girl who stole my heart immediately.
And the cold horror of the moment when, in a panic, they whisked her away.
Swallowing hard, I bend to place a kiss on Bella's forehead, smiling when she sighs in her sleep and squeezing my eyes against my tears. There have already been too many, and this is good news. This is news that our baby is all right.
Even though she needs her rest, I shake Bella gently. The idea of seeing our little girl without her -- or worse, of her waking up alone -- is unbearable. Her eyes flutter open, and I see the way her face immediately stiffens, her body bracing for the worst as her hands go to her stomach instinctively.
"She's fine," I whisper as I touch her wrist. "Everything's going to be okay."
Relief softens her features while her eyes grow damp.
"We can go see her." I tilt my head toward the nurse who is still waiting in the doorway.
Bella lets me help her up, and with my arm held tightly around her waist, we slowly make our way down the hall. I have to catch my breath when the sickly pink stucco gives way to a huge glass wall. A year ago, these would have all been nothing more to me than babies. But today, they're each someone's son or daughter. And one of them is ours.
"There she is," the nurse says, pointing. Bella and I move to stand before her, our hands extending to place palms to glass when they should be cradling our little girl's head.
Soon enough, I tell myself. We'll take her home with us. Soon.
"Look as long as you like."
I turn slightly to nod, and as I do, I catch the nurse's kind eyes and her smile. "Thank you," I manage. I don't know if I've ever been more grateful. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she answers, touching my shoulder and then Bella's in an offer of comfort and care. And then she leaves us to stare at the precious girl she helped bring into our world.
