Something Blue

was the truth-I wasn't scared. I just knew everything was going to be all right with my babies. I had made it to thirty-four and a half weeks. And I had Ethan with me. What more could I ask for? I felt like the luckiest woman in the world. I was ready to meet my sons.

We checked in at the hospital, and Ethan pushed my wheelchair to our assigned birthing room. He then helped me undress and change into my hospital gown. He blushed as I stood naked in front of him, and for a second I was embarrassed too.

'You ain't seen nothing yet,' I said to ease the awkwardness. I laughed. 'There is no modesty from here on out… And I sure hope you're not squeamish.'

He smiled, held my hand, and said he could handle it. Then he helped me recline in bed. I felt relieved to stretch out-and overcome with a profound sense of fatigue. All I wanted to do was sleep, but the pain was too intense for napping. About five minutes later, Mr. Smith and his midwife arrived. She started my IV while he checked my cervix and informed me that I was nearly five centimeters dilated.

Shortly after that, an anesthesiologist brought my epidural. I'd never been so excited to see a needle, anticipating a marvelous high, something akin to laughing gas at the dentist. Instead of a tingly, floating sensation, however, the epidural only caused the absence of pain. But on the heels of my vicious contractions, the absence of pain felt downright euphoric.

Everything happened very quickly after that. I remember Ethan holding one leg, under my knee, my midwife gripping the other, while Mr. Smith coached me to bear down and push. I did-as hard as I could. Again and again. I remember panting and sweating like mad, and making all kinds of ugly faces and guttural cries. After a very long time, my doctor announced that the first baby was crowning. I sat up, straining to see, catching a glimpse of dark, matted hair, then shoulders, torso, and two skinny legs.

'It's a boy,' Mr. Smith confirmed.

Then I heard my son's first plaintive note in the world. His voice was hoarse, as if he had been crying in the womb for hours. My arms ached to hold him. 'I want to see him,' I said through sobs.

'Just one moment,' my doctor said. 'We have to cut the cord… Ethan, do you want do the honors?'

'May I?' Ethan asked me.

I nodded and cried harder. 'Of course you can.'

Ethan took the big metal scissors from my midwife and carefully snipped the cord. Then my doctor tied it and briefly examined my baby before bundling him in a blanket and resting him on my chest. I shifted his head over my heart, and he instantly quieted while I continued to sob. I gazed down at his angelic face, taking in every detail. The curve of his cheeks, his tiny but still full lips, the dimple in his left cheek. Strangely enough, he looked an awful lot like Ethan.

'He's perfect. Isn't he perfect?' I asked everyone and no one.

Ethan rested his hand gently on my shoulder and said, 'Yes. He is perfect.'

I consciously savored the moment, deciding that everything I had ever read, seen, and heard about childbirth paled in comparison to what I was actually feeling.

'What's his name?' Ethan asked.

I studied my son's face, searching for the answer. My earlier flamboyant choices-names like Romeo and Enzo-seemed ridiculous and utterly wrong. His name suddenly came to me. 'John,' I said. 'His name is John.' I was certain that he would live up to the straightforward but strong name. He was going to make a wonderful John.

That's when Mr. Smith reminded me that I had more work to do, and my midwife scooped up John and handed him to a nurse. I tried to keep my eyes on my firstborn, but a fresh wave of pain enveloped me. I closed my eyes and moaned. The epidural seemed to be wearing off. I begged for another dose. My doctor told me no, offering some explanation I couldn't begin to focus on. Ethan kept repeating that I could do it.

Several minutes of agony later, I heard another wail. John's brother was born seconds after midnight. Identical twins with their own, separate birthdays. Although I knew the babies were identical, I was no less eager to see my second born. Ethan cut the umbilical cord, and my midwife swaddled the baby and handed him to me. Through more tears, I instantly surmised that this baby shared his brother's features, but his were slightly more defined. He was also a bit smaller, with slightly more hair. He wore a determined expression that struck me as amusing on such a tiny, new baby. Again, his name just came to me.

'You are Thomas,' I whispered down at him. He opened one eye and peeped at me with apparent approval.

'May I hold them both together?' I asked my doctor.

He nodded and brought John back to my chest.

Ethan asked me if I had settled on middle names. I thought of Ethan's middle name, Noel, and decided that each of my sons should have a part of the best man I knew.

'Yes,' I said. 'Their names are John Noel and Thomas Ethan.'

Ethan took a breath, blinking back tears. 'I'm so… honored,' he said, looking both surprised and touched. Then he leaned down to embrace us. 'I love you, Darcy,' he whispered in my ear. 'I love all three of you.'

thirty-two

For the next twenty-four hours, I had no sense of day or night. It was just a blur of time with John and Thomas. Ethan never left my side, unless on a specific mission for peanut butter crackers from the vending machine, painkillers from the nurses, or booties from the gift shop in the lobby of the hospital. He slept on a cot next to my bed, helped me to the bathroom, and snapped roll after roll of black-and-white film.

Ethan also saw to it that I phoned my mother. When I balked, saying I was too exhausted and hormonal to deal with her, he dialed my home number on his mobile and said, 'Here. You'll regret it if you don't do this.'

I took his phone just as my mother answered.

'Hi, Mom. It's me,' I said, feeling defeated before the conversation even began.

'Hello, Darcy.' Her voice was as formal and stiff as it had been on Christmas Eve.

I refused to be hurt and instead swiftly delivered my news. 'I had my babies, Mom.' Before she could respond, I covered the basics, giving her their full names, as well as their weights, lengths, and times of birth.

Then I said, 'Can you believe it, Mom? Twins born on separate days?' I looked down at John, sleeping on my chest, and then over at Thomas, whom Ethan was holding.

My mother asked me to repeat everything so she could write it down. I did, and then she said, 'Congratulations, honey.' A softness crept into her voice.

'Thanks, Mom,' I said, as Ethan prompted me to share the smaller, but in many ways more important, details. 'Tell her how John cries more than Thomas and has a birthmark in the shape of Italy on his knee. Tell her how Thomas peeps at you with one eye,' he whispered.

I followed his lead, and although it could have gone either way, my mother chose to be satisfying, nearly joyful.

'I can't stand the thought of you being alone,' my mother said in a nurturing and repentant tone.

'Thank you, Mom. That means so much to me… But I'm not alone. I'm with Ethan,' I said, not to be contrary, but because I wanted her to understand Ethan's importance in my life.

Ethan smiled as he repositioned Thomas in his arms and then kissed the top of his fuzzy head.

'Still. There is no substitute for a mother,' she said firmly.

'I know, Mom,' I said, feeling moved by the truth of her statement.

'So I'll come visit as soon as I can… In early June. As soon as we get through Jeremy and Lauren's wedding.'

'Okay, Mom,' I said. 'That would be really great. Thank you.'

'And Darcy?'

'Yeah?'

'I'm so proud of you.'

I basked in her words. 'Thanks, Mom.'

'I love you, honey,' she continued, her voice cracking.