My eyes drop to the precious bundle in my arms. “Jordana May Stanton,” I whisper.
“What a beautiful name.” The doctor smiles.
“It is,” I reply, totally distracted by the tiny little person in my hands.
The doctor finishes twenty minutes later, and I hand our baby back to Natasha. The nurse arranges her to try and feed. I stand still and hold my breath as I watch. She latches on and starts to suck and I feel the floor fall from underneath me. This is one of the most basic human needs, and yet it may just be the most intimate and beautiful thing I have ever seen. I watch the woman I love turn into a mother. My eyes well up again and I wipe my tears with the back of my hands.
Natasha smiles up at me with love in her eyes. “Josh.” She smiles. “Look what we made?”
“I love you so much,” I whisper as I sit on the bed and watch her feed our child. For half an hour, we stay silent and still as we watch our baby. I am in awe. There is nothing on Earth that could ever compare to this feeling. Natasha hands her back to me and I sit and stare at her in my arms. I know I should go outside and tell everyone the news, but I don’t want to break this moment. This is time that I can never get back and they are all going to have to wait.
“Can I take a shower?” Natasha asks. “I feel like I have just fought ten rounds with Mike Tyson,” she murmurs.
“Of course,” the nurse replies. “I will–”
I cut the nurse off. “I will take care of Natasha.”
I lay Jordana in her little wheel around crib and help Tash out of bed, and then I push the crib as I help Tash. It seems weird having two people to look after now.
“You can leave the baby here. I will watch her.” The nurse smiles.
“I can take care of them both,” I reply. Now more than ever, my protective instincts have kicked in. I’m not leaving either of them alone for even a minute.
I park Jordana into the corner of the bathroom and lead Tash into the shower, helping her wash the blood from her body gently.
She’s so swollen and she has lots of stitches. “Oh, baby,” I whisper, this is horrific. “Are you ok?”
She nods and holds me tight.
To be honest I’m feeling a little fragile myself, that whole birthing thing is other worldly.
She kisses me, and it’s as though our relationship just hit a whole higher level of intimacy.
“I have never loved you more than I do today,” I whisper.
We stand alone in the shower in each other’s arms, selflessly blocking out the rest of the world as we kiss and celebrate the making of a perfect little girl.
Jordana May Stanton.
Four Years Later
Natasha
“Jordy why are you in different clothes?” I ask as she flits around the kitchen in a little pink ballerina costume.
“I got dirty,” Little Miss replies.
I shake my head at Joshua and he smirks. This is her fourth outfit today. Jordana, A. K. A, Jordy, Jay or Jay bird, is… hmm, what’s the word for it? Strong willed, just like her father.
She gives the word defiant a whole new meaning. She’s super intelligent and super bossy.
We live at Willowvale now with Jordy and our other two children. Estella, who we call Ellie, is two and a half, and Blake, our son, is one. We are outnumbered. There are more little people in this house than adults and we don’t stand a chance of getting out of here alive.
The beautiful mansion that I once thought was a museum is now strewn with toys, highchairs and nappy wipes. Joshua’s office has Lego on the floor and tiny little handprints are all over the windows. Ellie waddles after Joshua and holds her hands up. He picks her up without thinking. Ellie is the only placid child we have, and Joshua says she’s the only drama free person in the house. Being attracted and married to a dominant male is hot… but bringing up his two dominant children is just damn hard work. Ellie points to the walk in pantry and Joshua walks over and opens it for her. I watch them together. In fact, I watch him with all of our children. This huge, muscular man is a pussycat at the mere mention of the word daddy.
“A banana?” he asks as he holds one up.
She shakes her head. She has sandy hair that curls on the ends, and large blue eyes. She is fairer than the other two
“Yogie,” her little voice tells him.
“Yoghurt?” he questions.
She smiles broadly and nods as he takes it from the fridge. He fills her a bowl and sits her in her high chair, placing everything out for her to devour.
He watches her lovingly for a moment as she spoons it into her mouth. This one has him wrapped around her little finger.