Do you trust me?
Waves of Hope
Chapter Nineteen
Edward
When the phone rings in the middle of the night, a startling, shrill sound in an otherwise silent hotel room, I know it's not good.
My stomach rolls as I search the darkness for my cell, almost knocking the damn thing off the end table before snagging it. The hard thump of my heart speeds up when I see it's the hospital calling.
"Hello?" I feel Bella sitting up at my side, hear her mumbling 'what's going on, who is it?' but I can't focus on her when I can hear the distant beep of a baby in danger.
Instinct tells me it's one of my babies.
"Edward, it's May. If you're able, it's probably best you and Bella come down here. It's Caben."
~ oOo ~
Oh, God. What time is it?
It takes me a second or six to realize it's not an alarm that's woken me up, it's the beginnings of garbled cries through the baby monitor.
Glancing over at Bella, at the shadows under her closed eyes, I quickly silence the monitor and slip carefully out of bed. Moving down the hall lined with snapshots of our life, I finally wind up at a white wooden door. Slipping into the room with a muted click, I immediately spot the source of my sleep thief.
"Hey, buddy," I whisper, padding across the carpet to the crib by the window. "It's okay, bud. Daddy's here."
Caben's eyes shine silver in the moonlight, his pudgy cheeks damp with tears even as he grins a big, gummy smile when I scoop him up.
Settling myself in one of two gliders in here, I cradle him against my chest and hum a random, made-up melody until he drifts back to sleep. My eyes wander around to the two other cribs in here, my mind leapfrogging across the hall where an almost identical nursery holds three more cribs, three more babies.
I'm exhausted, but I don't fall asleep. Not with precious cargo in my hands. It's hard having six babies, even harder having three older boys and a dog, too, but it's worth it.
They're worth it.
.
.
My eyes burn as I grip Bella tight against my chest, the dream I had right before May's call woke me replaying on a loop.
It's taken me a while to wrap my head around the reality of having six babies, but I'm finally there. Over the last week I've memorized their faces, learned their sounds. Bella and I have talked about nurseries and even taken a brief look at some of our potential options for a more spacious home for us, the big boys, and the six babies we'll hopefully be bringing home in a handful of weeks.
We can't lose one of them now.
"Oh, God…" Bella whimpers, her tears soaking right through my tee as she fists the fabric. "I can't bear this. He's got to be okay. He's got to."
"He will, Bella," I rasp, knowing as well as she does that it's not my promise to make. Tucking her head under my chin, I squeeze my eyes shut and pray harder than I've ever prayed before.
Fight, Caben. Fight.
~ oOo ~
By the time we're joined by Dr. Uley, the neonatal doctor on staff tonight, we've collapsed into the hard plastic chairs outside the NICU, Bella's head heavy against my shoulder, our joined fingers white-knuckled on my thigh. The beeping of Caben's monitors was driving us crazy, our helplessness compounded by the continued trill of those alarms telling us how hard our boy was fighting.
I have to remind myself that the nightmare I had in which I lost Bella was exactly that, just a nightmare, because the tide of grief I felt even only in my subconscious threatens to surge again as we wait for news.
With a long sigh, Dr. Uley places a hand on Bella's shoulder as she bolts upright. "Caben is stable," he murmurs, and it's like I've been holding my breath for the last hour and a half. The relief is incredible.
"He's okay?" Bella asks, tears pouring over her cheeks like they never stopped.
"He's got something called a pneumothorax, which basically means the air sacs in the lungs, Caben's left lung, to be specific, overinflated. When they burst, it allows air to leak. It can be relatively common in premature babies, particularly those receiving mechanical ventilation or CPAP. We've inserted a catheter into Caben's lung to release the air caught up in his chest, but the odds are in his favor."
His serious expression softens a little as he pulls a tissue from the box on the table beside me, handing it to Bella with a tiny smile. "The prognosis is good. We caught it early and he's already shown us a hundred times over that he's a fighter."
Bella sniffles a laugh as I focus on sucking in a few good breaths, wincing when I wonder how our boy felt when he was struggling for breath. I can't let my mind wander down that path. I can't let myself dwell on it, because if I do, I'll be no good to him or Bella.
"Doctor? Can we see him?"
Dr. Uley nods, his dark eyes flashing between the two of us. "Absolutely. The best thing you can do for your son now is be beside him."
Stepping back into the room that's already become ours, I force my hunched shoulders down and let Bella lead me over to Caben's pod. He already looked too small, too fragile, so the addition of another tube, another swath of gauze over his tiny body, hits me in the gut like a damn wrecking ball.
"Oh, sweet boy," Bella breathes, her trembling hands dropping mine to slip into Caben's incubator. One of the nurses is still hovering, but she gives us a supportive smile when Bella hesitantly asks if it's okay to touch him.
"Of course, hon. Would you like to hold him?"
My eyes wheel away from Caben to the nurse. Molly, I think that's her name. As she puts down the stack of folders in her arms, I see that I'm right.
"We can...we can hold him?"
Molly nods, her smile widening. "I'm a huge believer in the comfort of a momma's touch, especially when our preemies are struggling. The benefits can be astronomical for these little ones. I'll check with Dr. Uley, but sit tight. If he agrees, we'll give him a shot to prove just how strong he is."
Molly leaves us with a parting wink, and it's a long thirty minutes before she returns with Dr. Uley at her back. He purses his lips as he looks between Caben and Bella, who's grown increasingly hopeful with every passing minute.
"All right. Let's give this a try. Maybe this is what he's been missing."
It takes a few minutes to get everything set up for Caben to leave his pod. The wires need to be checked, his monitors need to be adjusted, and Bella has to change. She shucks out of my tee that she pulled on when we scrambled out of the hotel, leaving her in a pair of flannel sleep pants—also mine—a sports bra, and her unlaced sneakers.
Her hair is wild around her head and she looks like she's just escaped from an asylum, but when Caben is gently placed against her chest, his skin to hers, his head nestled in the curve of her neck, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Dropping to my knees in front of them, I block out Dr. Uley and Molly murmuring about his monitors. I block out the stars shining through the window, the low hum of the other babies' monitors, and the ache in my back from sitting on those uncomfortable-as-fuck chairs outside.
Brushing a stray tear from Bella's cheek with the pad of my thumb, I reach up to rest my hand along Caben's back and find myself wearing a faint grin.
My hand, from the tip of my middle finger to the heel of my palm, spans from the top of Caben's head to the bottom of his tiny diaper.
Lightly curling the tips of my fingers over his head, I feel the faint wisps of blond hair. Through his reddened skin—that's normal for preemies, so we keep being told—I can feel his hummingbird heartbeat. I can feel the breaths he's taking as he emits a soft squeak.
He's tiny, but he's mighty.
"He's fighting," Bella whispers as I take the blanket Molly holds out to me, draping it over Caben and tucking it under Bella's arms so it stays in place.
"Of course he is."
I shift around, sitting on the floor beside the chair so I can see Caben's face. His big, silvery gray eyes find mine and I'll never scoff at the idea of miracles again. When I look into my son's gaze, marvelling at the sheer strength he's already shown, I know deep in my heart that he's the only proof of miracles I'll ever need.
~ oOo ~
"Look, Mom! He's holding it!" Arlo laughs, aiming the camera at Asher in Finley's arms.
Bella is beaming at Finley and Asher when I tape Rylee's fresh diaper in place, glancing over my shoulder to see what's got Arlo fired up.
Oh.
A snort tears itself free, Bella's eyes dancing up to mine.
Today is the Fourth of July, so it seemed only right the babies got to celebrate, especially as it's their first ever Fourth. Charlie dropped the boys off at the hotel this morning before we came out to the hospital and I had no idea that the boys came bearing gifts for the babies.
Tucking the edges of Rylee's new swaddle back around her, I can't help but laugh. Each baby has a brand new swaddle, all of them identical. Stars and stripes is the theme of the day.
Rylee lets out an indignant grunt, mad about being jostled even though she needed a fresh diaper, and I have to adjust the dinky red hat on her head because she's wiggling all over the place.
The babies are two days shy of being three weeks old now, and boy, are they starting to show their personalities.
Resting my hand lightly over Rylee, I grin as she wraps her hands around my thumb and pinky, settling herself even as she gives me a wicked glare.
For being the smallest and the only girl, Rylee Eden is our little spitfire. She's the most demanding, gets the most cranky when she's tired-hungry-wants attention, and she's got the stink-eye down already. Though she acts otherwise, she looks sweet as sugar—which she can be if she's got everything she wants. Bella keeps telling me that she's got me wrapped around her finger…
She's probably right.
I'm not mad about it.
As Rylee drifts off to sleep, my eyes wander around the room. We've got a rare, visitor-free day today—apart from the boys, of course.
Asher and Mackenzie are the lucky ones getting kangaroo care first. The big twins are sitting side-by-side on the couch, the little twins content in their new swaddles and their brothers' arms. Out of all the babies, Asher Maddox and Mackenzie Brooks are the most alert, the most fidgety. Their arms and legs are always moving and they're forever waking each other up in their shared pod. We can't bring ourselves to separate them after we tried it for a couple of days and they pretty consistently screamed until we put them back together, so they're just gonna have to get used to each other flailing around.
Bella is singing softly to River Jack, his grunts and snorts making me chuckle even though I can't see his doubtlessly wide-eyed stare. He's the most attentive, the most focused. The doctors say the babies still can't focus their eyes much beyond ten inches or so, maybe not even that far, but River always seems to know when it's one of his big brothers at his crib even before they speak. He loves the boys so much already; it's kind of ridiculous how adorable they are together.
Then there's our sweet Oakley Aspen. He's overtaken River as the chunkiest baby and if he's not eating, he wants to be. For the most part, he's a happy, chill little guy as long as he's got food in his belly. Bella has been diligently pumping for the last three weeks, keeping our babies fed and trying to freeze as much as she can so we're prepared. I know she's desperate to feed the babies herself instead of watching them be fed through tubes. The doctor wants Bella to see the lactation consultant with Oakley next week, so I'm thinking she might get her wish sooner rather than later, thanks to our hungry little guy.
And then...I breathe a sigh, checking that Rylee is out before slipping my hand from her pod to cross the room.
Then there's Caben.
Our tiny, but mighty, little Caben Fox. His eyes are wide open, his face dwarfed by the binky he keeps accidentally spitting out.
With a soft chuckle, I pop it back in his mouth, holding the end of my pinky in the binky for a few seconds so he can get a good grip on it. After the scare he gave us a week ago, he's doing great. We've recovered and so has he. The catheter Dr. Uley inserted through his chest is gone, a tiny red dot left in its place a few days after it was removed. Despite all his trials, Caben is our most content baby.
He's also a total momma's boy.
The only times we ever hear him fuss are when Bella isn't around or he wants to be held, which...well, he pretty much always wants to be held, but he can usually be comforted by a hand resting over him or a finger to hold onto.
At times, it's felt like the last two weeks have crawled by. Other times, it's felt like I'm scrabbling for something to hold onto to stop myself missing everything.
I don't want to miss a single second of this, of watching Bella coo to Caben as he fusses, of seeing the big twins bond with the little twins, of witnessing Arlo's pride every time he talks about 'his' babies.
I've been here for every single one of the babies' firsts.
I didn't get them all with Jaxson, Finley, and Arlo, but like with Willow, I saw River, Oakley, Caben, Asher, Mackenzie, and Rylee take their first breaths. I saw their faces when they were just seconds old.
My mind drifts, my thoughts shifting to Willow as my eyes search for her face amongst our family.
There.
A long piece of string stretches across the room, from one side of the window to the other. Clipped to it with multicolored pegs are pictures of all the people who love our babies the most, and right in the center is the forever-frozen face that will always be missing from our family.
Willow.
She'd love being a big sister, not just to the babies, but also to Jaxson, Finley, and Arlo. She'd love bossing them around, making them play house with her as often as she trashed them at soccer. She'd love fussing over the sixers and would beg to hold them all the time, just like she used to plead to hold Garrett and Tanya's Irina. She was four when Irina was born and would have happily worn the baby carrier with the baby on her back if we'd let her.
Wistful, I seek the eyes that always bring me home when my tether slips and I drift away.
Bella smiles, understanding seeping from her hands into my skin as she sneaks them under the hem of my tee, leaning into my chest. "Happy Fourth, handsome."
Humming into her hair, I close my eyes and listen to the sounds that will replace the parade and fireworks this year. Our big boys laugh and talk to their little siblings. The machines monitoring the babies whir, click, and beep softly, comforting as much as they worry. I can't wait for the day the babies are strong enough to lose the ventilators, heart monitors, and feeding tubes.
Next year, I tell myself, will be so different.
For just a moment, an indulgent moment of wishfulness and hope, I let myself jump forward a year. I let myself imagine us wrangling six one-year-olds at the annual Fourth of July parade. It's a special holiday for Bella and me.
The first time we gave in to the inevitable was right after her first Fourth back in Florida.
Next year, we won't be holed up in the hospital hours away from Jackson Bay.
We'll be back there, in the town we call home, with the family we've created riding the waves of hope.
~ oOo ~
"All right, little man," Bella murmurs, running her fingertip over Oakley's chubby cheek.
I grin, perching on the arm of the chair and wrapping my arm around her shoulders. Oakley fusses in her arms, little legs kicking as she uses her free hand to tug her shirt down.
For maybe a millisecond I let myself enjoy the sight of her breast without a pump attached to it.
Okay, five seconds...or ten, whatever.
It's been months since I've been able to indulge in my beautiful Bella's curves and the end still isn't anywhere in sight. She's sore after having major surgery a little under a month ago, and on top of that, she's pumping every two or three hours. Soon, she'll have a baby or two attached to her every couple of hours instead and I won't get anywhere near.
I'm aware it's a dick move to be jealous of your own babies, but Bella thinks it's hilarious.
So hilarious that she told my brothers.
I've been receiving hilarious memes for the last week, and much like for my blue balls, relief doesn't seem to be on the horizon yet.
With a snuffly grunt, Oakley yanks me out of fairly inappropriate thoughts of what I'd like to do to his momma.
Bella gasps a second later, and then we're both grinning like Cheshire cats as Oakley fusses a bit before getting the hang of what he's meant to be doing. "Oh! He's done it...he's doing it." Bella's eyes are glassy. "He's latching on."
"Of course he is," I chuckle, rubbing Oakley's little foot. "He's got the best momma to help him."
Ridiculous jealousy aside, watching Bella nurse Oakley for the first time is...magic. He stares up at her with nothing but love in the green eyes he inherited from me, his small hand wrapped tight around her necklace.
It was her 'push present,' or whatever-the-fuck Sullivan called it. Apparently, it's an essential gift for the woman who delivers your baby these days. I thought he was an idiot when he first mentioned it, but the idea stuck, and the grin I received when I gave her the necklace with nine initials stamped in tiny white gold discs was worth it. I probably owe my brother a beer or six, actually. Fuck. I'm never going to hear the end of this if I admit he was right.
For a first go, Oakley doesn't do half bad. He loses his mojo a few times and Bella has to coax him back, but when Julia, the lactation consultant, returns, she's stunned.
"I was expecting to have to console you after a rocky first attempt, but you go Momma, and go Oakley!" Julia laughs, stroking Oakley's fuzzy head as Bella carefully pats his back to encourage a burp. "How did it feel?"
"It was okay. A little painful, but…" Bella trails off, looking up at me with furrowed brows and a slight grimace. "Do you want to listen to this?"
Arching my brows, I squeeze her tighter around the shoulders. "I'm here for it all, short stuff. I don't want to miss a thing."
Her grimace melts into a smile. "Well, okay then."
Turning back to Julia, she almost makes me regret what I just said. By the time she's done describing all the weird sensations and the pinching and the needle-like feeling I'm pretty sure I'm both green and in total awe of women. She's grinning wide when Julia waves on her way out and promises to be around if Bella needs her.
"What?"
"What?" she echoes in a silly voice, congratulating Oakley on a manly belch before shooting me a smirk. "You didn't have to stay for that, you know? The breastfeeding talk...I know you probably don't want to hear about that kind of stuff."
My eyes follow her around the room as she rocks Oakley to sleep, then sets him gently back in his pod with the help of May, who pops in before heading home. A frown cuts across my forehead as I consider her words, watching her soothe River when he fusses before crossing over to give Rylee her binky before she has the chance to realize she's dropped it and screams the place down.
The girl's got a strong set of lungs and she's not afraid to use 'em.
"There you go, Sis," she coos, waiting until Rylee is asleep before slotting herself between my legs. I haven't moved from the chair, so the mid-morning sun pouring through the window makes her hair shine an incredible silver. Slipping one hand over my thigh to give it a light squeeze, and the other around the back of my neck into the hair at my nape, she cocks her head.
"What's wrong?"
"I do want to hear about it."
She frowns. "Hear about what?"
Shaking my head, I slide my hands over her hips and tug her closer. "Breastfeeding. It's not weird, and I do want to hear about it. About all of it. And listening to you talk…"
Listening to the pride, the gratitude, the happiness…
"You're amazing, do you know that? I can't put into words how in awe of you I am, Bella."
Her cheeks flame. "Edward, I—"
"No, I need to say this." Squeezing her hips, I lean forward until our foreheads are touching, until my eyes have slipped shut and she's everything I can feel. "I've watched you do this incredible thing, Bella. I've watched you fight through pain, discomfort, major surgery, and massive blood loss to bring our six children into the world, and I don't think I ever really realized just how much you've done until now."
The last seven months flash through my mind on a sped-up reel. I see us finding out that we were pregnant, discovering the earth-shattering reality of what we were facing when it became clear this was no normal pregnancy. I see the fear, the tears, the pain she had to endure to get to thirty weeks and give River, Oakley, Caben, Mackenzie, Asher, and Rylee the best chance.
I flinch as her ashen face in the OR sticks for a second too long, that nightmare replaying on a loop until I slam it back into its box.
I almost lost you.
I grip her tighter.
"You took people's expectations and knocked them out of the park. People said you couldn't do it. Doctors told us to...to…" I can't even say the words, but the flash of pain in her eyes tells me she knows and I don't need to. "Now...now you're knocking all my expectations of what raising a baby, or six, with you could be like out of the park."
Opening my eyes, because I need her to see my conviction, I leave one hand on her hip and raise the other to cup her smiling face. She's softness, warmth, and love. She's the best thing in my world and the only person I'd ever want to do this crazy thing called life with.
"You're incredible. Every day, you inspire me to be better, do better. I want to be the best dad, the best man, and you make me believe I might be able to do that."
"Edward…" she breathes, her voice thick. "You already were the best dad, the best man, long before I came along. All the best parts of you," Bella stops, sliding her hand up from my thigh to press her palm right over my racing heart. "All the best parts of you were already in here. I'm just the lucky one who gets to see you share them with all our babies."
All our babies.
Blowing out a big sigh, my stomach clenches, my heart aching. I'll never be able to adequately thank Bella for any of our children, but I'll always resent Dick Holder for living up to his name. He won't give Bella a reason for not signing away his parental rights to our boys, but he also doesn't want anything to do with them. She thinks he's doing it just to be an ass. I'm inclined to agree with her, but I've never met the man. I don't know what his motivation might be.
All I know is that I'll never give Bella reason to look at me the way she looks when she talks about her ex.
I'll never let the boys think I don't love them just as much as I love Willow or the sixers.
"I'm gonna spend the rest of my life trying to prove myself worthy of you," I whisper, watching the midnight blue specks in Bella's eyes as she sucks in a shaky breath and blows it slowly back out again. "I don't know what I did to deserve you and our family, Bella, but I hope to God you never wonder how much I love y'all."
Her lips curve up into a dazzling smile. She's been stealing my breath with that smile for four years now, and always will.
"Edward, I never have, and I never will have to wonder. You promised me forever and I believed you."
Forever stretches out in front of us, sun-soaked, full of smiles and laughter and without-a-doubt a bucketload of stress.
With nine kids, six of them the same age, our life looks a lot different than how we planned it.
It looks perfect.
As always, heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you for reading and reviewing. I love these characters and I love how much you love them.
Thank you to annaharding and maplestyle, my dream team, for helping keep me in line and fixing my (many) errors.