A few months have passed and it was now the month of April 1918. This was the month that Héctor would never forget.
"Is this the story about your birth, Mama Coco?" Miguel asked.
"Yes," the old lady giggled. "This is where I was finally brought into the world!"
Héctor has been pacing back and forth in the hallway. His eyes were on the ground, with hands behind his back. Every five minutes, he'd glanced at the door, that is closed to him. "Is she all right?" he asked his family, nervously
He remembered how it happened.
Three hours ago, the mariachi was at a neighbor's birthday party playing songs for a birthday child and her friends. While he was packing his guitar in his case, the twins crashed the party by rushing inside. When he saw their terrified faces, he asked them what was wrong. "It's Imelda!" They had cried. "It is time for her to give birth!"
Without hesitation, Héctor picked up his case and ran out of the house. He managed to say a quick goodbye to his neighbor who in return, wished him good luck.
When they had reached their house, Juanita, Martha, and a midwife, Luna, were already assisting Imelda into her bedroom. Héctor saw that Imelda was in pain and breathing very hard.
He rushed toward her but his aunt and mother-in-law shut the door. "Men are not allowed!" they chided him. He sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do to comfort Imelda. It was considered unsuitable for a man to be in the same room as his wife who was about to deliver.
Now the songwriter had been waiting anxiously for her by walking back and forth. When he had asked if Imelda was all right, the twins both responded calmly, "She'll be fine."
"But she looked like she was so much in pain!"
The songwriter fretted. "What if something bad happens to her or the baby?"
"I know you are worried," said Francisco. "But this is typical among women who are with child."
"Typical?" the songwriter challenged. "You are telling me this is normal and there is nothing I can do about it!?"
"Relax, you bonehead," his tío rolled his eyes. "Your woman is getting help. And so is the baby. If you want to help, pray for their health. It's the least you can do."
Héctor relaxed a bit, knowing that Chicharron was right and there was no use arguing with him. He was the right; the best he could do was pray.
While praying for the seventh time, Héctor's ears pricked up at the sound of a newborn wailing.
The door opened and Luna appeared.
"Congratulations, it is a baby girl!"
Héctor felt as if he were dreaming. He pinched himself to make sure that this was real life. "C-can I see her?"
"Of course, you can!" Luna gently led the nervous father into the room. As soon as they did, he noticed that his aunt and mother-in-law had just finished cleaning a tiny human. They wrapped the baby in a blanket and placed it in Imelda's arms.
"Hola Héctor," Imelda responded. She managed to smile despite being so completely exhausted.
"Hola Imelda," he answered back, softly.
"Come and see your baby!" Martha beamed leading him to a chair next to Imelda's bed. When he sat down, his wife gently put the baby in his arms. He held the infant as if it were made out of glass.
"Well, I'll be…," he smiled, looking at the baby. She was tiny with big brown eyes and a tiny tuft of brown hair on her head.
"How do you like her?" Juanita asked as if she already knew the answer.
"I love her," her nephew said, still looking at the baby. "Isn't she lovely?"
The baby's face crumpled up and let out a wail.
"Oh no, what's wrong?" Héctor looked worried. "Is she okay?"
"Of course, she's okay!" Imelda smiled. "They are supposed to cry!"
The baby ceased her crying when her father hummed a little tune to her. Her father continued to gaze fondly at her even as the infant fell asleep. He planted a kiss on the baby's forehead. "I love you." Her father turned to her mother. "I am so proud of you Imeldita."
"Really?" Imelda wasn't sure what was the most surprising: the fact that her baby lived or the fact Hector was so proud of her? "You mean it?"
"Of course I do!" Héctor brushed her lips tenderly.
Imelda sighed through his kiss, feeling loved.
Martha and Juanita both shared each a smile, pleased at the sight.
"Oh good!" Chicharron said while watching the scene from the open door. "Now that the baby is born, they can get their marriage license!"
"I don't know," Francisco frowned. "We may have trouble"
"Por Que?"
"My daughter is a divorced woman. And we can't just ask the priest here or else he will find out that they are not married and word will get out! They didn't make up a story of them getting married in Pátzcuaro for nothing!"
"We won't go to the priest!" Chicharron hissed. "We will go to the court and ask them for a marriage license!"
"But I couldn't find their marriage license in the attic!" Miguel piped up. "Did I miss something?"
"No Miguelito," Abuelita shook her head. "You did not miss anything."
"Don't forget they were never married," Mama Coco gently reminded him.
"What was preventing them?" Tío Berto asked.
"It was a combination of many things…," Mama Coco resumed.