Meanwhile, my mother is photographing every embrace, snapping away. I let her, because I don’t want to stifle her spirit and because I have a feeling I’ll want to relive this night for years to come.
My mother ceremoniously hands her camera to Dwight, saving herself for last.
“Ben, darling,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “what took you so long?”
Ben laughs and says, “I don’t know, Vera. I was a fool.”
“Yes, you were,” my mother says with tears in her eyes. Then she points to me. “And so was this daughter of mine.”
“Okay. Okay. Enough !” I say, laughing at my family’s over-the-top enthusiasm. “We have a baby to meet!”
“Yes! Come in here,” Daphne calls out from the family room.
We round the corner, and there is my sister, in the soft glow of the fire, holding her newborn son.
“Ben, Claudia, this is your nephew Lucas,” Daphne says. “Lucas, meet Aunt Claudia and Uncle Ben! That is what he should call you. Right, Ben?”
Ben takes my hand and says, “Yeah, Daph. That’s what he should call me.”
“Well, come get a better look at him,” Daphne says proudly, as she unfolds the blue blanket from Lucas’s face.
It is a moment I’ve been wondering about ever since Thanksgiving. Will I feel differently than I did when Maura gave birth to her three children? I am worried that I will. But as soon as I gaze down at Lucas, I am relieved to realize that I feel exactly the same. Filled with pride and wonder and gratitude and anticipation of so much to come.
“He’s exquisite,” I say.
Too good to be real . And yet, he is real.
“I know,” Daphne says. “I can’t believe it.”
“Aunt Daphne, can I please hold baby Lucas?” Zoe asks—which is William and Patrick’s cue to chime in with their own request to hold the baby.
“Not now,” Maura gently tells her kids. “Lucas needs his mommy right now.”
Daphne gives Maura a grateful glance. I can tell she is not ready to pass around her child. She has waited way too long for this night.
We all have.
Much later that night Ben and I are back in our old apartment. It is finally starting to feel like home again which is a good thing because Michael is moving in with Jess in January. They’re calling it a “trial run” but I know better. Sometimes it’s easier to take things in small steps.
Like Ben and I are doing now. I have moved about half of my clothes back in with Ben, and am rifling through our dresser drawers now, looking for my red flannel pajamas.
Ben laughs, and I say, “What?”
“I knew the lingerie get-back-together stage wouldn’t last forever.”
“It’s Christmas Eve!” I say. “Time to be cozy. Not sexy.”
“Well, I got news for you,” Ben says.
“What’s that?” I say, smiling.
“You’re both ,” he says.
I smile as I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Then I hesitate for a long moment before taking my pill. I return to the bedroom where Ben is waiting for me in his own green flannel pajama bottoms. We turn out the lights and get under the covers.
Our kisses are cozy at first, like our pajamas, but quickly become urgent and hungry.
“How can I love you this much?” Ben says at one point.
It is one of those things you just can’t answer. Like trying to explain magic or miracles or faith.
“I don’t know,” I breathe, thinking that there are a lot of things I don’t know. I don’t know whether I will ever overcome my fears of motherhood. Whether I will someday be a mother. Whether I am capable of being a good one.
But for now, it is Christmas, and I am with Ben, and that is all that seems to matter. So I hold on to him tightly and whisper his name. As a wish and a promise for things to come.