His American Fling (41 page)

“Would you like to cut the cord?” The midwife asked Gemma.

“Will it hurt her? Because if it will, I’ll do it.” Gemma grinned at me to let me know she was joking.

The midwife laughed and shook her head.
 Gemma took the scissors and I heard a snipping. Another midwife took my baby from my belly and started wiping, weighing and running it through its paces. I still had contractions which helped me expel the placenta.

I wanted to be jovial and excited, but I found myself to be relieved and tired. Oh, I was
happy, especially when they told me that
my son
was healthy, but I wanted to sleep. The midwife refused to let me sleep, telling me that my son wanted to nurse. It hit me that I was no longer the master of my own destiny. There was a 6 lb.12 oz. tyrant who made demands on me that I couldn’t ignore. I sat up a little and undid the gown, pulling my breast into a position where he could suck on it. He latched on like a trooper—just like his Dad—and started sucking. It was a strange feeling at first, even stranger to look down and see this little face nuzzled into my breast and realizing I had created him.

I was so tired; I fell deep asleep as he sucked.
 I woke up when someone took him from my arms. I looked up and saw my husband kissing his son and then bending down to kiss me.

“Mags, well done.
 I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. He’s absolutely beautiful.”

“God, I’m glad you’re here,”
 I sighed and closed my eyes. “You watch him. I have to sleep.”

He grinned, “You’ve earned it, darling. Good night.”
Campbell headed for the door with his son nestled in his arms. He stopped and turned. “And Darling, I’m going to want several more of these.”

“Yeah, well here’s a clue…never ask a woman right after childbirth to have more kids. You’d fare better if you wait a few days.” I smiled at him
. He nodded back, and then he kissed our son on the forehead.

I watched as the two men in my life walked out the door and
then it hit me—I was living the dream.

THE END