The Secret Life of the American Teenager: Aftermath

Chapter Eighteen

"Wow," Ricky says. "She's beautiful."

"Yeah," I respond softly as I push back a lock of her hair. "She really is, isn't she."

She was a preemie. But only by about a month. And she was healthy and strong. She weighed 5 pounds and 6 ounces.

Her little hand gripped my finger. Her skin was so soft. She had a full head of dark hair, just like Ricky. Her eyes were that cloudy, murky color that all babies had. I'd have to wait and see what color they were.

But she definitely had my almond eyes, pink lips, and nose. I couldn't help but wonder what'd she'd be like. Her friends, her attitude, her personality.

I think back to the moment, just a short while ago, when I named her.

After cleaning her up, they handed her to me and I cradled her in my arms for the first time.

"Hey, little girl," I cooed, tired but elated.

"Do you know what you're gonna name her?" Grace asked.

I glance at Ricky. "Whatever you want is fine, Amy," he tells me.

So I gazed down at her. My gorgeous, newborn baby. Eventually, a name came to me. I knew it was the one.

"Isabella," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Isabella," Ricky repeats. "Isabella... Penelope. Isabella Penelope." I gave him a weak smile. It was a perfect name.

"That's beautiful," my mom says. "Isabella Penelope."

And now I'm looking down on her and I can't think of anything but her. She's perfect. I already love her to pieces.

Grace walks in with John.

Grace says, "I think John might want to meet his baby sister."

He inches forward so he can see her face. John looks at her thoughtfully.

"She's small."

I laugh. "Yeah she is."

"What's her name?"

"Isabella."

"Hello Isabella," he says and waves at her. He waits a second. "Why doesn't she wave back?"

"She doesn't know how," Ricky explains with a chuckle.

"Oh, sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, little man. How about we give Mommy some alone time?"

Ricky gently picked up Isabella and put her in her little bed thing the hospital gives you. He takes John's hand and leaves the room.

I'm exhausted. So much that I can barely keep my eyes open. But I promised Angie I'd text her when I had my baby.

As much as I didn't want to admit it, I'd grown away from all my friends. The phone calls to Angie everyday became phone calls once a week to a text every once in awhile. I missed her.

I decided to text Madison and Lauren, too. They were probably busy, but they had been my best friends for most of my life. I couldn't just not tell them.

I get a text almost instantly back. It's from Madison.

Madison: i bet she is so cute, can't wait to meet her!

Lauren: awe! hope I see her soon!

Amy: You and Lauren coming home soon?

Madison: yeah! see you then!1!

Angie: What?!?!? Picture NOW.

Amy: Later. She's not with me right now

Angie: Missed you

Amy: Missed you more.

I put down my phone and finally let sleep overtake me.

Three days later, finally we're leaving the hospital. I couldn't be more sick of the seem four walls in my little room. It was a relief to be home.

I wasn't worried about taking care of Isabella. I'd done it as a single mother at fifteen, I could do it now.

Ricky could afford to take off any more time from school or work. He plants a kiss on my forehead.

"Call if you need anything, Amy. I mean anything."

"I'll be fine, Ricky," I reply. "If it's an emergency, Adrian's parents are just next door and you're at the butcher shop which is a quick drive."

"I know. I just worry," he says with a little smile. He crouches down to be at eye level with John. "And Buddy, you be good for mommy, okay?" John nods.

"All right! Up-top!" He says, giving John a high five. I hear the door close and lock behind him.

The morning was uneventful. I fed Isabella every three hours and John had lunch at noon.

I hear a knock on the door. I walk over and I don't want whoever it is to wake up Isabella. I open the door.

It's my dad.

"What are you doing here?" I question him. He hasn't talked to me for months and didn't come to see Isabella when she was in the hospital.

"I wanted to apologize," he tells me, stepping inside. "Look, Aims, I made a mistake. I'm sorry. You just-you just made me so angry. Look, I'm saying I'm sorry."

Finally, I can't take it anymore."No! You don't get to be sorry GEORGE. You're not my dad! My dad would've stood by me and came to see his granddaughter! So, no, I won't accept your apology."

Tears are welling up in my eyes. He looks shocked.

"Well, leave!" I shout after him, turning around so he can't see my tears.

I collapse onto the couch, sobbing into a pillow. I here little footsteps coming into the room. I lift my head up to see that it's John.

"I'm sorry," I say while I try to wipe the years alway. "Mommy's fine."

He doesn't respond. He just walks up to me and pulls himself onto the couch. He lays down and pulls my arm over him.

And we just lay there like that. My crying stops and I hold my little boy in my arms until he falls asleep