After Four Daughters, My Husband Finally Got the Son He’d Been Begging For – But When He Held Our Newborn Boy for the First Time, His Words Made My Stomach Drop
“You two look comfortable,” he’d said.
He’d smiled when he said it, and I’d rolled my eyes. But that night, he asked how often Michael came by when he wasn’t home.
“He’s healthy. Seven pounds, four ounces.”
I’d laughed then, too. I hadn’t thought there was anything underneath the question.
I thought of him suddenly at a pool party two summers ago, climbing out of the water while Lily shrieked from his shoulders. His shirt had ridden up as he bent to set her down, briefly exposing the pale crescent-shaped mark near his lower back.
Then the memory slipped away as another wave of exhaustion pulled me under.
“Elena,” the doctor said from the doorway, her mask lowered, her eyes crinkling. “You did beautifully. He’s healthy. Seven pounds, four ounces.”
“Ready to meet Dad, little man?”
Aaron’s face lit up in a way I had never seen. Not on our wedding day. Not when Lily was born. Not any of them.
“A son,” he whispered. “We have a son.”
His eyes filled.
“Thank you,” he said to the doctor.
“He’s perfect.”
