The next morning, I lost all sense of time. I checked in on my patients, was in and out of the lab—I did everything the way I normally do. But I was distracted, almost to the point of no return. In five hours, I would have an answer to the question I'd had since I found out I was pregnant, and the whole experience would have a new sense of reality. I would know for sure if my tiny human was a boy or a girl. Owen and I would be able to pick out names and decorate the nursery and do everything normal couples do when they're about to be parents. All of these baby steps he promised we'd take—they were finally starting to add up, and at fourteen (almost fifteen) weeks, I was unreasonably excited. I was officially outside the time when most miscarriages happen, every ultrasound we'd seen had shown a clear, strong heartbeat, and ever since Owen had put the image in my head the night before, I had not been able to stop picturing our tiny baby reaching its arms out toward me.

It was, to put it simply, consuming me. After all of the years I had spent convincing myself that maybe I was just destined to be alone, I had a boyfriend who went out of his way to remind me that he loved me, a baby due on Christmas Day, and to go along with it, a baby bump that I just couldn't keep my hands off of. It was like an addiction, the thrill that came with feeling every movement, and for one wild moment, I regretted not looking into IVF when I was in Germany. Maybe I could have had this sooner. But ultimately, I was content where I was. This baby was half of me and half of Owen. He'd said it himself—chubby cheeks, tiny little arms and legs, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Or red hair and my green eyes. Our baby. The thought of it was almost intoxicating, and I unconsciously wrapped my arms around my abdomen like I was hugging myself.

"I can't wait to hold you," I whispered, and I got a flutter in return. "Hi, baby. You can't wait to meet me, too?"

"I don't want to interrupt," Owen said, snapping me out of my daydreams and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, "but…are you ready?"

I twisted around in his arms to face him, and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

"I'll take that as a yes?"

"I'm so ready."

He held my hand the whole way down to Arizona's office, and let me squeeze it as hard as I wanted while Arizona was doing the blood test, with the promise that I wouldn't break his fingers.

"No offense, babe, you just don't know your own strength," he'd said, and I gave him the satisfaction of making me laugh.

"The lab should have your results in a few hours, okay?" Arizona said. "All we're doing is matching the blood test results to your first ultrasound. You can stay here if you want, or you can go home and I'll call you when it's ready. Up to you."

I looked up at Owen.

"Do you want to just stay? I have work I should probably finish up. And then we'd just be upstairs."

He agreed, but the minute we got back up to the lab, we both realized what a mistake we'd made. The thought of either of us being able to focus on anything work-related was absurd, almost laughable. I couldn't even sit still, let alone center my attention on medical journals I'd already read a hundred times. Owen was in worse shape than I was—he'd started out sitting next to me, but he had, thinking I wouldn't notice, gotten up and started pacing. I pretended I hadn't seen it because I knew he'd feel better that way, but I was so aware of his heavy footsteps behind me that I could almost feel them pounding in my chest like some weird heartbeat.

"Do you think she'll find anything genetically wrong?" he said finally, still unable to sit down again, but hovering next to me.

"I don't think there's anything on my side. As far as I know, I don't have a family history of anything horrifying. We're all obsessively organized with a tendency to snap at people who try to disrupt our systems. But I don't know if I could pass that on to a child, especially when that child has half of your DNA."

"Hey," he said, laughing. "I'm not as much of a mess as you think."

I raised one eyebrow at him, but didn't argue.

"What about you?"

Owen said nothing, but pointed at his hair, flashing that goofy grin I loved so much.

"I wouldn't classify that as a genetic abnormality," I said. "I think it's cute."

"What about the other thing?" He pulled the chair back out and sat next to me again. "Still think we're having a boy?"

"I have no idea," I admitted. "I was so sure last night, but now I just don't know. And I don't care. A healthy baby. That's all I want."

"Me, too."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes—I kept turning pages of the medical journal I'd been reading, but I forgot which one it was, and I sure as hell wasn't paying any attention to the words. Owen had finally stopped moving, but one of his hands had found its way to my back, and he was starting to rub slow circles between my shoulder blades. I wanted nothing more than to lean into him and close my eyes, but I couldn't. I was too wired, to the point where I jumped about a foot in the air when my phone buzzed.

"It's Arizona," I said breathlessly. "She's ready."

"Everything looks great," she said when we got back to her office. "You two must have amazing genes."

I hadn't realized how tense I was until I felt myself relax, and I let myself lean back onto Owen's chest like a slow-motion trust fall.

"Thank God," I said, exhaling and feeling my head rush slightly—apparently I had been holding my breath.

"Ready for the fun part?" Arizona asked.

I turned to look at Owen, and he nodded.

"Your Christmas baby is a girl."

"A baby girl," I whispered, and my breath caught in my chest. All of my fears from the night before had dissipated. The only thing I could think of was our daughter. Our Christmas baby. By Christmas morning, she could be here. We could sit by the window with her and watch the snow, take cheesy pictures of her underneath the tree—she was by far the best present I had ever gotten.

Owen and I left the hospital in a complete daze. We weren't speaking, but I knew we were thinking of the exact same thing.

Our daughter.

Just thinking it felt surreal, and the entire ride home, I was almost buzzing with excitement. I planned dates in my head for when we could set up an appointment for a 4-D ultrasound. In a few months, we could look at her, really look at her. We would be able to see her face, and it was that more than anything else that kept me up that night, long after Owen went to bed.

We're going to see her, I thought, and in that exact moment, I knew there was something I had to do, and I wouldn't be able to sleep until it was done. Beside me, Owen's breathing was already slow and even—he was deeply asleep, and I knew I wouldn't wake him up, even as I untangled myself from his arms. The baby fluttered under my hand as I went downstairs.

"Shh, it's okay," I whispered. "I promise we'll get some sleep after this."

I grabbed a blanket from the basket next to the couch and went outside. The sky was starting to show the beginning of a storm, and I curled up with the blanket in one of the chairs on the porch, making a mental note to tell Owen in the morning that a house with a covered porch was one of the best ideas he'd ever had.

My heart rate started to pick up a little bit, but I shrugged it off.

Relax, I thought. This isn't weird. New moms do this all the time. Deep breaths.

"Hi, baby girl," I said finally. "It's your mommy."

She fluttered under my hand again, and I took that as a sign to continue.

"I don't know if you can even hear me. I just need to say some things out loud. I need…I just want to tell you how much I love you. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be having a baby right now…I would have laughed in their face. I would have told them off for being ridiculous. The thought of it then would have seemed delusional. But now? You've been with me for almost four months and I can't imagine not having you. You're everything I didn't know I wanted, and I'm sorry I couldn't see that sooner. I panicked when I found out about you. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried for hours, and I hope to God you won't hold that against me. I was scared, that's all. Don't think for a minute that it means I love you any less. Scary things happen sometimes and I was by myself, but I'm not anymore, and you never will be. Whatever you need for the rest of your life, I am yours. I love you more than I thought was even possible to love someone. I think about you and I forget how to breathe. I'm a cardiothoracic surgeon…I know it's impossible…but you make me feel like my heart is going to explode.

When I was little…I had two parents who shouldn't have been parents. I wasn't planned, and I wasn't exactly a welcome surprise for them. I didn't realize it until I found out I was expecting you, but I've been so afraid of ending up like that. But lately, that's been the last thing on my mind. I heard your heartbeat and all I wanted was to speed the clock up and have you in my arms. And that's all I'll ever want until it happens. You—and your daddy, too—are my whole entire life. Everything I will ever do for the rest of my life is for you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

At some point, it had started raining and I had started crying, but I had no recollection of any of it. I was alone in time and space with my daughter, and that was the only thing occupying my thoughts. The storm was just background noise.

I stayed outside a little bit longer, waiting for the tears to slow to a stop and running my hand up and down my abdomen, my heart jumping at every flutter. I was, for the first time in years, completely at peace. There was not a single thing on my mind. Not Eve, not my parents, not even—and I felt my stomach lurch with guilt at the thought of this—Henry. My usually-paralyzing fear of loss had quieted down to the point where I could barely feel it. Like Owen, I had come back from Iraq with triggers, but they were calmer than they'd ever been. There was nothing around me, nothing in my head, but my family. And that, I decided, was where I was leaving it for the night, without giving myself a chance to overthink anything.

I stood up from the chair with the blanket over my arm, took one last look at the light show in the sky, and went back inside. I locked the door and the blanket went back in the basket, and I put my hand back in its usual resting place.

"Bedtime, baby girl," I whispered, and went upstairs, stopping only to stare into the sea-foam green room for a minute. In five months, we'd have a daughter in that room. A whole entire person to give all of our love to. I pulled the door shut a little bit, breaking the spell I was under, and slipped back into our bedroom and got back under the covers with Owen. He stirred a little without waking up, unconsciously wrapping his arms around me again.

"I love you," I whispered to him, and then tilted my head to the baby, "and I love you."