Bonus scene–Murph: A new addition. Or two
I was maybe this excited when I met Jason, and when he told me he wanted me but had just been too clueless and jealous to do anything about it. And when he told me he loved me. Let’s not forget when he fucked me the first time. And when he asked me to marry him. And a few other times.
Hmm. I guess I get excited a lot.
So, well, I’m at that level of excitement again. All the excitement!
Nerves jangling, can’t stand being in my skin, not sure it’s real, honestly I do need to be pinched to know that it’s my real life excited.
I squeeze Jason’s hand, my stomach jumping around.
“I can’t wait to meet them,” I say. “Like, now. Like yesterday. Like last week. But they’re here. They’re here, wifey-poo! They’re here!”
“I can’t wait, either,” he admits. Jason has that warm expression in his eyes he gets when something really matters to him.
He keeps it in. I let it out. But we both know what each other is thinking.
I’m about to jump on his back for a piggyback ride, but that probably wouldn’t be appropriate while we’re strolling into a hospital waiting room. Also, our hands are kinda full.
So I settle for walking as close to him as I can without actually climbing on him.
We head to the maternity ward. We’ve been on visits before. We took classes. We learned how to change diapers and infant CPR and feeding and nutrition and first aid and all sorts of other things.
But we don’t know what they look like. And we’re about to find out.
I thankfully haven’t ever had to spend much time in a hospital. A few broken bones from playground falls, but not much more than your average guy.
This visit, though, is for a joyful reason.
I wanted to bring all the balloons and stuffed animals and flowers and candy, but Jason told me it would just be clutter.
So I only brought about half of what I wanted. A huge bouquet of balloons, and flowers for our surrogate, and some of her favorite candies.
We check in with reception and are allowed to go down the hall.
“They’re going to be small,” I whisper. “Like, you could put both of them in one hand.”
“Yeah,” he whispers back. “We’re going to have to enjoy them when they’re this small, because I think we’re going to blink and they’ll be going to college.”
“You hush now, sweet cheeks. That’s absolutely never going to happen. They’re going to stay little forever.”
He grins. “Pretty sure that’s not the way it works.”
I sigh. “I know. I just wish it were true. But it’s all magic, right?”
“I’m not sure midnight feedings or diaper changes are magic.”
“But I want them. I want them all.”
“Me, too.” He gives me a light kiss on the lips, then kisses each of my eyelids. “You’ll have plenty of time with the babies.”
But I can tell he’s nervous, too, because he’s tapping his foot on the cold linoleum.
We wait and we wait until finally a nurse beckons to us. “Jason? David? This way.”
“I’ll forgive her for the David,” I mutter, “because this is all formal and shit.”
“When we got married, you insisted on being called Davey.”
“Well, that’s my real name. Not my formal name.”
“You haven’t been formal a day in your life.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
We stop at a door that seems twice as wide as a normal one, and in the room beyond there’s a single hospital bed.
Jason looks at me, and I look at him.
“You go first,” I say.
“No. After you, daddy.”
And I almost burst into tears. But I do as he says, because Jason barely ever asks for anything, so when he does, I give it to him.
Our surrogate, Nancy, smiles at us. “Oh, Jason! Murph! They’re here.”
They are our children. Twins.
We each give her a huge hug, being careful of her IV.
In two clear bassinets right by her are two little bundles of fabric.
“Oh my goddess,” I whisper.
A tiny burrito-shaped package.
And another.
Both with little striped hats. And the smallest faces I’ve ever seen.
“They have noses!” I say.
Jason laughs. “Yes, Murph. They do.”
“But they’re so cute.” I look at the nurse. “Can I hold one?”
She hands me one.
Jason also picks up a bundle. Both babies are asleep, peaceful expressions on their faces as they suck on pacifiers.
We stand next to each other, lining up the babies next to each other. We look down at the little ones, then at each other, then back down again. And back and forth. These tiny beings with their scrunched-up faces are the most beautiful creations I’ve ever seen.
“We’re parents,” I whisper. “And I’m in love.”
“We have so many people in our lives to love now,” he agrees.
And we’re both so schmaltzy, and neither of us cares. If you can’t be schmaltzy upon seeing your newborn child, when can you?
Nancy looks up at us, and her face, which was already kind, softens to the point where I can see why she does this.
I automatically start rocking the baby in my arms. I’m kind of proud of how I’m not holding her like a football—though to be fair, that’s only partially because I paid attention in class and partially because I don’t play football. Please.
Jason, though. His is distinctly more of a football-style hold. But my big husband holding a baby is enough to make my ovaries explode, and I don’t even have any.
“Have you decided on names?” Nancy asks. “They won’t let you leave the hospital without them.”
We look at each other and nod. “Yes.”
It was actually pretty easy for us to name them. We both like the same kind of names.
Boring ones.
Rebecca Falkner-Murphy and Samuel Falkner-Murphy.
I guess the hyphen keeps them from being too boring. But maybe my mom knew what she was doing when she named me. If she’d named me something like Aloysius, I’d never have had a chance. With a boring name, I could soar.
There’s one rocking chair in here, and I take it, holding Rebecca while she sleeps. Jason paces, holding Samuel.
We’re so ready for this.
It’s not going to be easy. But we want them more than anything.
“Our love is growing,” I say to Jason. “In leaps and bounds.”
“No kidding,” he murmurs. He looks just as entranced as I feel.
And I don’t care that we’re going to have to figure this all out. I don’t care that it’s going to be tough at times. I don’t care that there are going to be times when I don’t know what to do.
Because between me and Jason, there’ll be no shortage of love. He’ll send them to school with homemade lunches featuring organic produce from the farmers market, and other mommies will hate him because he’s that dad. But it’s the way he is.
And I’ll take them clothes shopping and let them express themselves in their own little ways. As long as they’re weather appropriate. No leopard in summer or bikinis in winter. But other than that, just about anything goes.
We’ve got the nursery all set up for these precious creatures.
I inhale their baby powder scent and can’t get over how small they are. They’ll have to stay in the hospital for a few days until they get a little bigger. But everything went well.
And soon we’re going to be home.
#
When visiting hours are over, we can barely stand to leave them. Nancy promises to keep us posted if anything happens, and we’re going to be back the first minute we can in the morning.
“I’m so happy,” Jason whispers. “We’re going to be the best daddies.”
“We’re going to let them become whoever they want to become. We’re going to support them. We’re going to go through good times and bad, but no matter what, they’re going to know they’re loved.”
“There’s a whole world of possibilities. Oh, I know we’ll be tired with sleepless nights. But I don’t care. I want them so bad it hurts. And now that they’re here? They’re these precious creatures. Ones that I would already lay down my life for. And we will do everything to show them that they are loved.”
I smile at him. “Six months from now, when they’re rolling around and crying and eating and pooping, I’ll remember this day. But I know I’ll just learn to love them more every day that I have them. Right now, that seems inconceivable, but I know it will be possible.”
“This is the best choice we ever could have made. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you and them,” he says.
Jason, as usual, takes my breath away. I can’t help but hug him in the parking lot. And when we get back home. And when we both stand in the empty nursery, waiting for when we bring our son and daughter home. And when we begin the rest of our lives.
“This is going to be the next part of our adventure,” he says.
“Absolutely.”
“And there’s no one I want to go on an adventure with more than you.”
“You say the sweetest things, Jay Jay.”
“That’s because they’re true.”