Leanne can't help but laugh. She takes a deep breath to mollify the pain. She watches in silence as he studies the newborn in his arms.
"You know I'm not sure that it's fair that you did all the work, and she's my twin."
"If she were green, and covered in feathers I wouldn't care. I am just glad that she is here in one piece."
Her tiny hand grabs his finger as he scoots her blanket away from her face so he can get a better look at her. Her whole hand can barely close around his pinky.
"I get the sense she's got your attitude, and your grit."
"I won't argue with that. Her timing leaves a little to be desired, though."
"Clearly she was in a hurry to get here," he smiles as the newborn's eyes pop open, and look at him.
"My OB/GYN insisted that she didn't want to do any extra paperwork for my untimely demise."
His chin tilts to meet her glance. He rises from his seat, and scoots beside her in the bed. He gently returns the baby to her chest. His arm snakes around Leanne. She simply listens to the pair of them as they inhale, and exhale.
"How did we get here?" Cole queries.
"We tested a hypothesis, and then we parted ways."
"I couldn't stay. I didn't want to push you down a road that you weren't emotionally available for."
She meets his glance, with a swollen, tear stained face, "Yet here we are. I feel like a piñata that has gone a hundred rounds with a bat, and finally broke open."
He smiles, "This is some prize."
Leanne breathes in the scent of her newborn baby. She nods, "All four pounds and twelve ounces of her."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't say anything to anyone about this."
"Were you ashamed?"
"I have spent nearly my entire adult life as an ER doctor. Shame doesn't really factor into it. I was terrified. I ignored the signs for so long thinking that maybe I really should just quit drinking coffee because the acid, and stress of life had burned a permanent hole into the lining of my esophagus. By the time someone is doing ballet on your bladder it is pretty hard to ignore. I have spent so many days in night surrounded by despair. I just didn't want to subject anyone else to it if that is how all of this ended."
"We're all here now. So what do we do?"
"I can't answer that for you, Cole. I am going to hope to get out of here soon so I can take her home," she answers as she traces a pair of tiny precious lips.
"Does she have a name?"
"I never really managed to get that far. I couldn't seem to convince myself that this could really have a positive outcome."
"She's here now."
"I've just been calling her sunshine the whole time. Every morning with the sunrise she would wake up, and do acrobatics. I'm not sure how anyone can know the sun has risen from in utero, but she did. She could sleep through the entire rest of my shift, you know."
"'Stepping into the morning sunrise, I leave behind the veil of night. The sun greets my sleepy eyes, as the world unfolds before my sight.'"
"It's been a while since I've heard that poem. Morning's Song, by Wren Rushing, right?"
He nods in confirmation, "Yeah."
"Wren Sunshine?"
"We're just going to call her Sunny, aren't we?"
"That is my plan," Leanne admits.
"You know you're not going to be able to shake me now, right? Our broken lives are forever intertwined by one tiny little ray of sunshine. Maybe if we weren't broken we wouldn't be able to let all of this light in. I just have one request."
"Hmm?"
"You give her your last name. I want you to take all the credit for the work you've done."
"Really? Are you sure about that, Cole?"
"How else is anyone going to know you did any work here? Somehow the universe just copied my face, and pasted it on to a tiny little girl."
Leanne pushes Sunny's cap up. "Did you see all this hair?"
"I don't understand how anyone could be so perfect."
She subtly shrugs, "I haven't figured it out yet."
He lays there staring that their tiny newborn daughter until he drifts back to sleep. When he wakes up he finds the bed empty. For a moment his is struck by overwhelming sadness. It's as if his entire world has disappeared in the blink of an eye. He sits up, just as the door opens. A nurse leads Leanne back into the room. Finally he exhales.
"You know this would be a lot easier if you would free me of all of these restraints," Leanne groans to the nurse.
"We both know that is not going to happen."
"That is what you said about the shower, too, but I proved you wrong."
The nurse shoots her a look as Cole vacates his seat on the bed. The RN adjusts the bed, and assists Leanne back to bed.
"Do you want any assistance?"
"To get back into bed? I'm not a toddler."
The nurse squats beside the bed. "There is no prize for pushing yourself too hard here. You are in recovery from a traumatic birth. You held your baby in place when the cord prolapsed until staff could safely deliver her. In the ER you might be a hero. Here you are just a post-partum mom in recovery. You will focus on hydrating, and resting. Your only other goals are to meet your basic needs. If you push yourself too hard you risk blood loss, or elevating your blood pressure. Leanne, I have no desire to code you on my shift."
"I understand."
"Now what can I do to make you more comfortable?"
"I just want my baby to be brought back from the nursery. Oh, and I could use a couple extra pillows."