At 2:45 AM, Xavier Simba Morgan came screaming into the world.
And from that first moment when the nurse handed Derek the blanket-wrapped bundle that was his squalling pink son, he felt like he couldn't breathe because his heart was full to bursting with love for this amazing little creature that was his own flesh and blood.
He settled on the edge of the bed next to Emily so they could both stare down in awe at the incredible little miracle they'd created. "Can you believe this thing came out of your body?" Derek asked in a hushed whisper.
"This thing?" she repeated, fixing him with a raised brow. "This thing is your son."
"I know," he said, stroking the tuft of dark hair on the baby's head, "He's already my favourite person in the whole world."
Emily nodded in agreement. Then, quietly, she said, "Maybe we should put him in the bassinet and send him to the nursery now?"
He raised a brow. "Really? I thought you'd want to hold him until your arms fell off..."
"I do," she mumbled. A beat. Then, she inexplicably burst into tears. "I just want to sleep..." she sobbed.
"Okay," Derek soothed, "Okay. It's okay. You can get as much rest as you need – I'll call the nurse, okay?"
She nodded, hiccuped, then smiled up at him thankfully.
Once Emily had nodded off (in about ten minutes flat), Derek stepped into the hallway and closed the door to the recovery room behind him. Dialing his mom's number, he only had to wait for half a ring before Fran answered. "How is Emily? And Xavier? Are they okay?"
He'd texted her the important details as soon as the baby arrived, but this was the first time they'd spoken since his update around ten PM.
"They're both doing fine," he reassured her. "They're resting. I actually called to ask you a question..."
He could almost hear her raised brow over the phone. "Already?" she asked.
"What do you mean already?" he echoed.
She just laughed. "I expected that you'd have questions, but so soon after he arrived? Don't they have nurses to answer your baby questions?"
He sighed. "It's actually about Emily," he said, sounding almost embarrassed to admit it.
Fran hummed a knowing note, but waited for him to continue.
"It's just... I thought she'd be really excited and never want to let Simba out of her sight once he got here, but she wanted to send him to the nursery and I guess I'm just a little worried that..."
She cut him off there before he could devolve into a spiral of guilt and fear. "She's fine," she insisted.
"What... But..." he stammered. "I mean... Are you sure?"
"I'm certain," she repeated. "She's exhausted on a level you can't possibly understand. And after birthing the placenta, your hormones drop sharply, so she's experiencing a massive mood shift. But I promise it's nothing to worry about."
A beat.
"But what about..." he started, seeming almost afraid to say the words aloud.
"You seem to be forgetting that I've done this three times before," Fran reminded him. "I know what I'm talking about."
He nodded, then seemed to realize she couldn't hear it over the phone. "Sorry, Mama. I guess I'm just..."
"You're worried about her. It's only natural when someone you love so much has just gone through someone so incredibly difficult. But I promise you don't need to be concerned yet." She paused a moment before she could contain herself no longer. "So, when can I visit?"
Laughing, Derek said, "How about you get some rest first – and give Emily the chance to rest too. Maybe bring something not made in the hospital cafeteria when you come."
Fran set a Styrofoam container of pancakes in front of Emily, practically vibrating with excitement. "How are you doing, Emily?" she asked.
Emily smiled – more at the pancakes than at Fran – and said, "I'm good, all things considered. Feel like I got hit by a truck..."
Fran chuckled. "I remember that part. Hopefully those pancakes help."
Emily was already digging into the food, mouth too full to speak coherently...though she tried with a muffled, "Derek's bringing the baby from the nursery."
She was saved having to ask Emily to repeat herself when Derek entered the room with the little plastic bassinet. "Simba, meet Grandma Fran," he introduced, grinning brighter than he ever had in his life. He carefully lifted the baby and passed him to his mother, glowing with pride.
"Oh, Derek..." Fran said breathlessly. "He's beautiful. He looks just like you."
"No way," Emily mumbled, "He's way cuter." And with that, she slowly and awkwardly attempted to get out of bed to use the bathroom.
Derek chuckled as he helped her stand. "I agree. He's all Emily." To punctuate the statement, he kissed her temple.
"Quick, while Emily's in the bathroom..." Fran said once the door closed behind her. She manoeuvred the baby into one arm and used the other hand to remove one of her rings. "I want you to give this to her."
Derek's eyes went wide. "What? You... But..." He paused, swallowed thickly. "Isn't that the ring Dad gave you?"
She nodded. "It's been with me for many wonderful years and now I want you to give it to Emily for all the wonderful years you have ahead of the two of you."
"Well, I mean, we haven't really discussed the matter of marriage..." he said.
She raised a brow. "Don't you want to marry her?"
"More than anything in the entire world."
Fran nodded knowingly. "It doesn't have to be now, but I know that one day the right moment will arrive and you'll get down on one knee and make that girl a Morgan. I've known that moment was coming from the first moment I caught her sneaking out of your bedroom window – not the best first impression, I admit – but I could see in the way you looked at her that she was the girl you'd love for the rest of your life."