Chasing Cars

Thirty-Six

The next morning I was lying in my hospital bed holding my daughter in my arms. Her skin was still pink, and her eyes were a dark shade of blue. But the fluff of brown on the top of her head looked an awful lot like mine. She was tiny, just like the woman at the Disney Store said she'd be. Her fingers were like tiny little twigs, and her face was small and delicate. She wasn't sleepy yet, but they told me it was normal for her to be alert. She was looking around the room, but her eyes weren't focusing on anything. She was just curious about her new world.

Chris was in the chair next to my bed. He had his feet up on an ottoman, and his head slumped to the side as he fought against sleep. He wasn't winning. Neither of us had gotten much sleep, and he'd been at my side the entire time. They told me I should rest, but I couldn't bring myself to put her down.

When they transferred me to the maternity ward upstairs, Chris's mom came up with us so she could meet her granddaughter. Todd, Albert, and Doug had come by with Larry and Sarah. And my brother was on his way over to meet her. Everyone seemed really excited about her. I couldn't blame them. She was perfect.

I sat there for a long time, thinking over everything Chris and I had been through together. How I'd met him on the front steps of our old apartment building, and he gave me two shots of whiskey that put my ass to sleep. How he used to come over once a week with takeout just to sit casually on my couch and watch movies. We'd always been so comfortable with each other. Always good friends. Neither of us ever thought we'd one day be in a hospital room with a newborn daughter.

Then I thought about how easily that moment could have not existed. I broke up with Chris because part of me knew I'd love him deeply, and I wanted to learn to love myself first. He'd been supportive of that decision even though he said it hurt him. He came back for me later because he couldn't forget me. Couldn't forget that easy friendship we'd developed. That had somehow blossomed into the deepest love either of us had ever felt. We'd fallen back into place so quickly. It was so obvious we worked well with each other.

Then I thought about how much I'd hurt him when I kicked him out. I was stupid for not telling him as soon as I found out. He still outright told me that she was the most important person in his life before he ever met her. I was stupid for being so angry. For everything I'd said and done.

I didn't doubt his love for me. I never did. But there were no words to express how he'd looked when he held our daughter for the first time. He looked at her like everything he'd ever done had been to lead to that moment. And when he looked at me, he had that same look of complete devotion, and I knew what he promised was true. That no matter what, I would always have a home with him.

He seemed to catch himself nodding off and quickly sat up to watch me. He blinked a few times before focusing, and then he smiled.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said. I smiled to myself.

"Hey," I replied. He stood up and stretched his body. Then he stepped to my side and put his hand on the baby's little knitted beanie. He leaned over and kissed my temple.

"How's she doing?"

"Great. She's still really active."

"You're amazing," he said quietly. I looked up at him and smiled again.

"So are you," I told him honestly.