176

[REBECCA]
Hours slipped away, regrets gnawing at me. A fresh wave of contraction gripped me, Claire’s command driving me onward.
With Artemy’s warm breath brushing against my temple, the tender words “I love you” resounded in my ears, and with a powerful surge of determination, I emitted a resounding shout.
Our rhythm became a dance of contrasts, a primal urge to push followed by a resounding wail of agony, only to be succeeded by yet another unyielding push. Eventually, amidst this rhythmic exchange, I sensed an intense pressure in my lower regions, and then, an unfamiliar yet unmistakable sensation as something, or rather, someone, glided out into the world. The peculiar sensations were almost drowned in the sea of pain that held my focus captive.
Finally, the pressure abated, and a profound silence ensued. It was an ephemeral stillness, lasting no more than a couple of seconds. Because, as my own cries subsided, the heartfelt wails of my newborn daughter took their place.
“It’s a girl!” Claire’s proclamation carried a note of triumphant pride as she cradled my precious baby girl in her embrace.
A daughter, a cherished princess, had made her grand entrance into our lives-a tiny, fragile being who would be the recipient of boundless affection and vigilant care.
“Mr. Loskutov, would you like to sever the umbilical cord?” Claire inquired with a warm smile, her approach bringing our daughter into Artemy’s proximity. His expression oscillated between bewilderment and awe as he diligently followed Claire’s guidance, slicing the tenuous connection that had nurtured our baby, even as his other hand remained firmly clasped in mine.
Claire gently deposited our still-wailing princess onto my bare abdomen, where her cries reverberated with remarkable force. A symphony of infantile cries, robust and insistent, filled the room, spilling beyond its confines as if announcing the arrival of a new sovereign.
Amidst the symphony, Artemy’s lips sought solace upon my tear-streaked countenance, planting a succession of fervent kisses as his emotional tremors reverberated through his touch. My own tears flowed freely, blending with the sweat of labor and the traces of my daughter’s birth.
“I love you,” his voice, a tender whisper, etched those three words onto my skin, each utterance accompanied by a soft caress of his lips. “Angel.”
Yet, the moment of intimate connection was transient as my daughter was gently lifted from my embrace. My gaze remained steadfast on the spectacle of her cleansing, her cries gradually diminishing. Bedecked in the remnants of birth, her form shimmered with vulnerability, a sight that invoked a profound surge of maternal emotion.
“Artemy…” My voice, a raspy murmur, carried my sentiments as his affectionate proximity persisted.
“You were incredibly strong,” he affirmed, his words brushing against my forehead, laden with admiration.
“Thank you, my love.”
“I love you.”
“I’m aware.”
Beside me, a soft chorus of sniffles betrayed Lynda’s emotions, her tears a testament to her shared joy. “She’s here,” I conveyed with a nod, gesturing towards the embodiment of our hopes.
Lynda nodded in agreement, her words tender. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”
“Thank you for standing by me. I needed you,” I confessed, my grip on her hand unyielding.
When my daughter had been cleansed, her cries momentarily silenced, I extended a smile of encouragement towards Lynda. “Why not go and meet her?”
With a haste borne of eagerness, she slipped away from my side, her gaze fixated upon the newborn princess as she was gently nestled into her crib.
Observing Lynda’s radiant expression, I sensed a subtle quickening of my heart rate. Undeniably, our baby was the epitome of cuteness-a living testament of the love Artemy and I had shared.
Redirecting my attention to Artemy, I spoke with an endearing lilt, “You should go and see her, Artemy,” the words escaping as a whisper against his lips.
His response was to seal my words with a deep and consuming kiss, one that left me breathless, a testament to his passionate love. And yet, Artemy hadn’t yet beheld our daughter, a curiosity that stirred within me.
“I’m apprehensive, Angel,” he confided, his voice laden with vulnerability.
“Of what? The man I’ve come to know is fearless in the face of anything.”
“I cannot define it precisely. It’s as though my chest harbors a strange, constricting sensation,” he admitted, his gaze intently locked with mine.
Blue eyes delved into the verdant depths of my own, each pair reflecting the same fervent affection that bound us together.
“She needs you.”
Artemy’s throat tightened as a mixture of anticipation and nervousness washed over him. He straightened his posture just in the nick of time, as Claire approached, cradling our precious daughter in her arms.
In one fleeting moment, his hands transitioned from emptiness to embracing our little princess. Well, the term “embracing” might be a stretch. More like an uncertain juggling act, he instinctively held the baby at arm’s length, an expression of mild panic overtaking his features.
Words stumbled out of his mouth in a hesitant, stuttering fashion, “I don’t…know…what…you…”
Claire’s patient demeanor shone as she gently intervened, guiding his arms into a more secure position around our baby girl, demonstrating the proper way to hold her.
Artemy’s instincts kicked in, and he brought our princess closer to his chest, cradling her with newfound confidence. His gaze, once locked onto mine, now fixated solely on our tiny daughter. Every blink was a heartbeat shared with her, every silence an unspoken bond.
No longer did his eyes rest upon mine; they were devoted entirely to our precious daughter. Every blink, every gesture, he absorbed as if capturing a lifetime of love in mere moments.
And then, his grip on her tightened, imperceptibly but protectively. Was it the natural stance of a guardian, or did it hint at a more possessive sentiment?
It was a heartwarming sight, one that tugged at my tired eyes, slowly giving in to exhaustion.
Amid Claire’s final stages of assistance, she ensured my comfort and cleanliness, allowing me to lean back against the pillow, an observer to this beautiful scene. My husband, my rock, was cradling our daughter, and in turn, I saw him captivated, utterly spellbound by the little being in his arms.
His chin trembled, and as my tired eyes blinked, the silent cascade of tears down his cheek stole my breath away. Emotions flowed unchecked, love overflowing the banks of his restraint.
“My princess,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion.
As his gaze found mine again, he continued, “Our princess. She is so beautiful, Rebecca. So, so beautiful.” Yet a hint of concern crept in, knitting his brows. “And too small. Is that normal? Why is she so small?”
Lynda snorted, Claire chuckled a symphony of shared experience and joy.
I found myself smiling, my heart swelling with love that extended beyond words.
Artemy’s observation held truth. Our princess was indeed a delicate presence, nestled within her father’s embrace. His arm, sturdy and protective, dwarfed her petite frame, enveloping her in a cocoon of love.
My yearning hands extended, aching to hold her. With Claire’s exit, and Lynda’s soft departure, Artemy settled onto the bed beside me. Gently, he placed our daughter in the cradle of my arm. I held her close, the softness of her movements against my chest resonating with maternal tenderness.
She squirmed, her mewls hinting at her discomfort, and her tiny forehead creased as though ready to unleash a cry.
Her eyes, still concealed by closed lids, provoked my curiosity. What hue would they eventually reveal?
Wrapped in a snug blanket, her dainty form seemed barely to shift within its confines. A pink hat perched upon her head, as soft as a whisper. I brushed it aside, revealing a crown of black hair that marked her uniqueness.
“She has black hair,” I whispered, bending to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.
With Artemy’s help, we unwrapped her, unveiling ten tiny fingers and ten even tinier toes. Perfection embodied in miniature form.
As I gazed at her, my heart ached with a mixture of love and protectiveness, an intense desire to shield her from any future pain.
I knew in my core that she was safe, surrounded by a formidable family. An army assembled, not for battle, but for safeguarding her innocence.
My husband’s resolute determination had crafted a haven of security around our daughter a fortress of unwavering love.
Her petite arms danced in the air, her leg extending in a delicate kick. The tender, cute pink lips on her tiny face curved into an adorable pout that tugged at the heartstrings.
And then, the first cries emerged.
“Oh, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” I murmured gently, my voice a soothing balm. “What do you need? Are you hungry? Shh, Mommy is here,” I continued to console as her cries persisted.
Artemy swiftly enveloped her in a blanket once more. “I think she’s hungry,” he surmised.
I nodded, requesting his assistance with a subtle gesture toward my laced bodice.
My husband adjusted himself and deftly untied the front of my gown. As my breast was liberated from the fabric, I drew Princess closer to my chest.
Her little head moved in slow exploration, seeking something vital. A soft, suckling sound emanated from her lips, a clear sign of her hunger.
With utmost care, I cradled her head with my hand and guided her mouth to my left breast. In an instant, she found my nipple and began to suck with determined vigor.
The sensation caused me to wince, a yelp escaping my lips.
“That’s my girl,” Artemy’s tone swelled with pride, his admiration unmistakable.
“Seriously?” I exhaled in a mix of amazement and slight pain as our baby continued to feed heartily.
Artemy’s arm encircled me, his nose nuzzling into my neck as he placed a tender kiss there, resting his head on my shoulder. “I love you, Angel,” his affectionate declaration resonated.
His other hand gently cradled our baby’s plump bottom, an embodiment of protective tenderness.
In unison, we held our precious daughter, our combined embrace creating a cocoon of love as she nursed.
Even in the midst of her nourishing, a soft sound escaped her perhaps contentment, perhaps a whisper of sleepiness.
Then, her eyes fluttered open, the drowsiness giving way to awareness.
A small gasp escaped my lips, followed swiftly by a smile a radiant expression of awe.
Our gazes intertwined a silent, profound connection. In that moment, I found myself falling in love all over again, swept away by the intensity of emotions.
Blue eyes met green ones, a spellbinding fusion that brought tears to my eyes. “She has your eyes, Artemy,” my voice trembled, the sentiment overflowing.
The same captivating eyes that adorned her father’s face.
Her crying ceased, and her tiny form stilled.
Gigantic bluish orbs, reminiscent of steel, blinked up at me, encircled by long, luscious lashes.
Her rosebud lips formed a delicate seal around my nipple, and in that instant, it almost seemed as though she sighed.
Wait, was that a smile? Could it be?
“She smiled,” Artemy’s voice carried a mix of astonishment and delight, fully captivated by the sight of our daughter.
Despite the logical arguments that might come later attributing it to gas or newborn reflexes in that serene moment, she had smiled. At me.
And then, her gaze met her father’s, and another miraculous smile graced her cherubic face.
My heart constricted, and a tear threatened to fall. As father and daughter locked eyes, my breath caught, and I stifled a sniffle.
Her nursing had paused, and she blinked a mesmerizing blink that felt like an eternity.
“Your daughter, she truly is,” I whispered, my grip on her tightening.
“She is… she is our own,” Artemy responded, his fingertip caressing Princess’s plump rosy cheek with tenderness. “She’s a vision of perfection,” he added.
I concurred silently. She was undeniably perfect.
As Princess neared slumber, Artemy assisted me in retying my bodice. Her eyelids drooped, eventually surrendering to sleep’s embrace within moments.
Lifting her gently, I nuzzled into the curve of her delicate neck, inhaling her sweet, infantile fragrance. A soft smile graced my lips as I murmured, “My sweet baby, I love you.”
I clung to her, savoring every passing second. Yet, fatigue crept in, inexorable. My resistance to sleep weakened, and I began to drift.
Silently, Artemy eased her from my embrace. Through dreamy eyes, I observed him carrying her to the crib. After tucking her in, he returned to my side.
“Rest, my Angel. I’ll be your vigilant sentinel,” his words brushed my ear in a hushed tone.
His lips met mine in a gentle kiss, and I savored the taste before surrendering to slumber, eyelids heavy.
There was no room for fear, no space for panic.
Love and contentment enveloped me.
Beneath the vigilant gaze of my husband, I felt secure.
A shield of protection he would wield unconditionally.
Under his watch, both Princess and I were cocooned in safety and adoration, sheltered by the very man whose reputation was stern and unyielding.