“I don’t know how you went the whole pregnancy without finding out what these babies were.” I’m so glad we didn’t. We’d have expected the worst if we had known they were both girls. “Looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of pink around your place.”
I immediately rack my brain to remember every detail I can recall about fylgias but all three have one thing in common. They died the moment they were born. And this child isn’t dead. She’s very much alive and looking at me.
I pull back her beanie to look at her hair and it’s different from our other daughter’s. This baby is blond like Avery. They are total opposites so it isn’t possible for them to be an agape and fylgia.
I’m able to relax for the first time in months knowing I have two healthy daughters. One is like me, the other like Avery. And all is right in my world.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’m waiting in Avery’s postpartum room when she’s brought in from recovery. It’s been more than two hours since she was rushed toward the operating room for an emergency cesarean and I’m anxious to see that she’s unharmed. Our connection was severed when the general anesthesia hit her vein but it’s slowly wearing off because I’m beginning to pick up bits and pieces of emotion from her.
I’m excited to tell her about our two healthy daughters but disappointed I’ll have to wait since she’s still sleeping. “I thought she’d be awake after she left the recovery room.”
“She was hurting when she woke after surgery so we had to give her some extra pain medicine. She’ll be groggy for a little while.” The nurse is leaving when she turns back. “She did wake up long enough to ask about the babies.”
I immediately panic. “What did you tell her?”
“I’m sorry. She dozed off before we could tell her she had another daughter.”
Good. Avery would have lost it if she had learned the second baby was a girl. I need to be the one to tell her so I can immediately reassure her both babies are fine.
Avery is assessed by the nurse and then left to rest until time for vital signs again. She looks so young lying in bed with her blond curls fanned out on the pillow beneath her head. The beautiful sight reminds me of what a sleeping angel might look like.
It’s still night but the others have gone home. They felt it was important we have this time to bond with our new babies so I’m alone with a sedated Avery when the nursery staff member brings them to the room for their first visit. Avery sleeps through the nurse’s teaching about the care of our babies and I’m left peering over at them in their cribs once the nurse is gone. And I’m scared shitless.
They’re so tiny. And fragile. I’m afraid I’ll break them so I’m content to gaze at my newborn children from where I stand hovering over them. All is well for a while until one of them becomes fretful and her crying escalates into a screaming fit.
It’s the dark haired one making all the fuss. I can’t even call my daughter by her name because she doesn’t have one. Neither of them do. We discussed a couple of options but never agreed on anything. Avery was determined one was a boy so we certainly didn’t choose names for two girls.
I don’t have a clue what’s wrong with her but I pick my elder daughter up and hold her for the first time. She continues screaming and I rock her gently without any improvement in her mood. “I don’t know what you want, little one.”
“Sol,” Avery says in the softest voice. She’s finally awake so I walk to her bedside with our screaming daughter and lean over so she may see her face. “That’s a welcomed sound.”
She presses the button on the bed to lift the head and I feel her joy when she notices there are two cribs. “I want to hold my babies.”
I pass our daughter to her once she’s sitting up and comfortable. “This is the firstborn.”
“Yes. My sweet, dark haired girl.” She strokes her cheek. “Everything’s a little fuzzy but I remember you, my lovely.”
I collect our sleeping daughter from her crib and return to Avery’s bedside. I pass the second baby to her and give her a moment to register the wellbeing of our second daughter before I tell her we have two girls. “Both are safe and healthy.”
She’s beaming. “Yes they are. I can clearly see that.” She leans forward and presses a kiss to each of their heads.
“And both are girls.”
She looks up at me and her fear is almost overwhelming. “No.”
“Both of them are fine, Avery. One is dark like me, the other is blond like you. They’re complete opposites so it isn’t possible for them to be an agápe and fylgia.”
She’s panicking and it’s my job to soothe her through our connection and reassuring words. “They’re more than two hours old. The second baby wouldn’t have survived if she was a fylgia. But she did and she’s fine. Look at her, Avery. She’s alive and healthy. Watch her chest rise and fall as she breathes. Place your hand over her heart and feel it beat.”
A single tear rolls down her face. “We have two daughters.”
“Yes. Two very nameless little girls. We’re going to need to rectify that soon. I’m sure they don’t want to spend their lives being identified by the color of their hair or being known as the first or second born.” We debated girl names for a couple of weeks but never decided on anything. Choosing names for girls felt like we were admitting we were going to lose one so neither of us would commit to anything.
“You really liked Sophie,” Avery says.
“And you really liked Sadie.”
“So we use both and we each get our preference.” She looks down at our dark haired beauty. “I pictured a little girl with dark brown hair and green eyes like yours while I was pregnant. I think Sadie fits this one perfectly but she needs a middle name.”
My dark hair and green eyes came from my mother and I’m reminded of her when I look at this child. “I’d really like to use Caroline after my mother.”
Avery caresses the top of her head. “Sadie Caroline Alexander.” She looks up at me. “I adore the way it sounds but I love it more because she’s named after your mother.” She moves her hand to the top of our other daughter’s head. “Now what about a middle name for Sophie?”
“We’re using my mother’s name. Would you like to use your mom’s as well?”