The ambulance to take Sophie to the clinic arrived less than two minutes after she had delivered Andrea in a rush of blood and fluid that more or less soaked the towel beneath her, and I had barely wrapped up the beautiful little girl in another clean towel to hand to her mommy when they came in. "Well, we missed all the fun," the first paramedic said, carrying his large bag. He'd come in through the back door, which I had told them would be unlocked. "How long?"
"Just a minute or two," I said, while Sophie was so enraptured by her daughter that she didn't even act like she'd heard anything. I could understand why. Despite being a little early, Andrea was shockingly beautiful, with a pale mound of straw colored hair and eyes as arresting as her mother's. She was still messy and red, but nothing out of the ordinary from the pictures Sophie had shown me, and I knew that she'd be a beautiful little girl once she got cleaned up and used to the world. Sophie had pulled open her shirt as soon as the delivery was complete, and at the moment the medics came in was holding her daughter against her chest so that the baby could hear the familiar sound of her mother's heartbeat. After squalling for only a few seconds, Andrea had calmed down to look at Sophie.
Despite knowing that a newborns vision is very minimal, her face had an expression on it I'd never forget. "Hi," it seemed to say, and the barely minute old baby blinked. "I love you. So, what's next for us?"
"Well, let's get some of the basics done, and we'll get mama and baby to the clinic safely," the medic said, as he was joined by his partner. "Now... it's Missus Bylur, right?"
"Yes," I answered. Sophie was still pretty exhausted and shook up by the whole experience, and I didn't want her to blank out and say Sophie White. "Joanna Bylur."
"All right. Missus Bylur, can you talk, or are you still wore out?" medic number two asked, opening her case and pulling on gloves. "May I give your daughter a quick once over?"
"Quickly, please," Sophie said, her voice still wrung out. Andrea wiggled as the medic took her, but put up with the pokings and proddings pretty well, all things considered. The medics clamped the cord about five inches away from her belly and then snipped it off before wrapping her back up in her towel and handing her back to Sophie. Andrea squalled a little bit, but quieted again when she felt Sophie's warm skin against her cheek.
"Okay, here's what's going to happen," the first medic said. He pointed towards the rolling gurney they had brought down the hallway. "You still have one more thing to push out Missus Bylur, your birth sac and womb lining, but that can take fifteen to thirty minutes. We're going to get you on the gurney and into the ambulance where we can monitor both of you there. Your doctor's been contacted, he'll meet you as soon as we get to the clinic."
The second medic turned to me. "I'm sorry, you are?"
"Tabitha Williams," I said. "Missus Bylur's, ah, employer."
"Bullshit," Sophie said. "She's my sister. She rides with us in the back."
I wasn't sure who was crying more, Andrea, Sophie, or myself.
Chapter Three
Mark
Four days later, our new family celebrated Christmas with Sophie coming home from the clinic. While we had originally wanted it to be a home delivery, Andrea's rush to get out into the world made the doctor want to keep mother and baby in the clinic for a few days. It's times like that it is useful to have a well-padded bank account that could pay for a private room where the two of them could rest together. In fact, most often when I came in, I found Andrea lying on Sophie's chest, either feeding or resting her head on the warm comfort of her mother's skin.
The biggest challenge of coming home was bringing Andrea out of the clinic, and in hindsight, understandably so. A stiff winter wind had picked up, and while it created the effect of a (barely) White Christmas on the ground, it meant that Andrea was now faced with the daunting task of wearing clothes and having a cold wind in her face for the ten yards we had to walk to get her in the car. Add to that the fact that she had to ride in a car seat, another cold and uncomfortable first, and I was glad that Tabby drove. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to put up with the fifteen minutes of infant screaming that came from my daughter.
"Well, at least we know she has good lungs," Tabby quipped when we reached the house and we got everyone inside. I nodded and rubbed my temples, thinking that I also knew that my daughter was very strong-willed, some might say stubborn. I wondered if she got that from her mother or myself, and then grinned. It didn't really matter.