Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Noah takes my hand and kisses it. “We need to rest because once we go home with these kiddos, we won’t rest until we move them into their dorm rooms in eighteen years.”
“I just woke up.”
“Yeah, I know. But just think, if you close your eyes and sleep, when you wake, you’ll get to meet your boys.”
“Do they look like you?”
Noah smiles. “I think they look like us. Our daughter, though, she looks like you. I said it from the second I saw her.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Like the luckiest man alive.”
The morning goes exactly to plan with a little extra. I take a much-needed shower, welcoming the pounding water on my back to work out a kink from the uncomfortable mattress and go for a walk around the maternity ward, where I spent more time crying than walking. It’s hard walking by rooms, hearing babies cry, and not being with mine right now. Knowing they’re in the hospital with me isn’t as comforting as one might think.
Noah wheels me to the NICU. He thinks it’s funny and tries to do wheelies and pulls the “no hands” trick when we go down a ramp. When I balk, he says something ridiculous about boys and pranks and all I can think is I’m in for it. My hope is our daughter will side with me. I definitely need a sidekick in this family now.
We go into the NICU, wash up and put on the appropriate attire. It’s quiet in the nursery minus the sound of machines beeping or humming. Noah pushes me toward a curtained area and when he pulls it back, I gasp at the sight before me. It’s not our children that has my attention, but our fathers and my brother. They’re all asleep and shirtless, sitting upright in a semi-circle near the incubator the babies stay in. Each of them holding one of the babies. I tap Noah’s hand and he leans down.
“Take a picture.”
He does as I request, hopefully snapping a few.
The boys are with our dads, while Quinn holds our daughter. When I look closer, her tiny fingers are wrapped around his index finger. Tears well instantly. Those two are going to be close and I love that for Quinn.
“Did you get a good one?” Noah hands me his phone. I heart every single photo, loving each one for different reasons.
I don’t know if it’s our presence or the fact that Liam senses us staring at him, but he startles and our son whimpers. Cue another wave of tears and emotions. I thought I was emotional during my pregnancy, but this crying shit is for the birds. Hopefully, once my body adjusts the waterworks will slow down.
“Morning,” Noah says to his dad. “Which one do you have?”
“Boy A,” Liam says and then adds, “Who needs a name or I’m going to start calling him Rocketship.”
“You will not,” I say to my uncle. “He’ll have a name today.” I reach back and pat Noah’s hand. We have a list and after I spend some time with my babies, they’ll have names.
Our voices wake Quinn and my dad. Quinn smiles sheepishly when I give him a fun pointed look. He smiles and shrugs.
“She’s my first niece,” he says. “She’ll need me to keep the boys away.”
“Won’t her brothers do that?” I ask him.
“Sure, when they’re older.” Quinn makes no attempt to move our daughter from his chest. “She looks like you and Elle; it’s in my nature to protect her.”
“I appreciate you.”
Now he stands and takes a few steps toward me. I expect him to hand me my daughter, but he holds her tightly to his chest. Quinn leans down. “I’m so damn proud of you,” he says and then kisses me on my forehead.
Liam kicks my dad’s foot. He startles, looks around, smiles, and closes his eyes again. Looking extremely content to stay there with his grandson on his chest.
The nurse comes over and doesn’t say anything about the scene in front of her. She giggles though, which makes me laugh as well.
“Okay, gentlemen, I think mama wants some time with her boys.”
My dad and Liam grumble something unintelligible and stand, and if I had to guess, reluctantly hand the boys over to the nurse. She sets them in their incubator, and then two bare chested, tattooed men block my line of vision. They both lean down and press their lips to my cheeks, each thanking me for making them grandpas.
“Have you decided on what you want to be called?” I ask them.
They look at each other and smile. “I’m going to be grandpa,” my dad says.
“And I’m going with gramps. I like the shortened, much cooler version. And we both know I’m way cooler,” my father-in-law adds.
“Shut the f—” My dad stops himself before dropping the f-bomb in the nursery. “Let’s go round up our wives while we discuss the level of coolness you think you have.” My dad puts his hand on Liam’s shoulder and gives him a slight push. “Quinn.”