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He held a lot of babies in his arms during his life; knows it’s probably an above-average number after he counts his younger cousins and once his older cousins reach a certain age, their babies, and then once his siblings reach that age, he holds his nephews and nieces. He realizes that there are people in the world who are the same age as him and have never probably held one and he just happens to be on the other side of the spectrum of people who just happen to have a lot of babies in their life and ample opportunities to hold them.
He knows how to hold a baby. Yet he’s never held babies this new before. He’s never been the first person to hold a baby after it’s been born.
Okay, so he realizes that technically, he’s not the first person to hold Amanda’s first-born daughter because the doctor who hands her to him has held her first, and she’s cleaned up, so the nurses have held her too. But Amanda hasn’t woken up yet and Doctor Stone says it’s gonna take a few more hours, but that it’s good for the baby to be held by one of its parents.
The words of protest that he’s not the father die in his throat as she yawns and grabs his pinky finger – he knows that babies have a strong grip, but it still catches him off guard. It’s then that he realizes that it doesn’t matter that he isn’t the father, that it’s more important that, unlike the father, Sonny is the one by Amanda’s bedside and he’s the one holding this baby right now.
“Hi, little girl,” he whispers, “welcome to the world. Your momma’s still sleeping, so you’ll need to wait to learn your name. She told me a few options, but she wanted to meet you first. You’re gonna like her, I promise. I liked her right away after I met her, even though she didn’t like me much back.”
The baby squirms and Sonny chuckles – that’s new to him, too, “yeah, your father didn’t like me very much either when we met. But that was mutual, so let’s not get off on the wrong foot here, okay?” He wiggles the finger she’s still holding onto, traces a pattern with the other fingers over her torso and promises her that he’ll win her over just yet.
He’s used to his arm feeling heavy after a few minutes of holding babies, used to their parents coming back and taking the babies back. There is no such thing happening now. The baby is content to be snuggled tight against his chest and his arm never grows heavy or tired. And there’s no one to come take her from his arms – well, Amanda will after she wakes up and he doesn’t want to give her back to anybody else.
Silence falls over the room, interrupted only by the regular beeping of the monitors Amanda’s hooked up to. He doesn’t know what else to talk to the baby about – never had to hold one this long before – but maybe he doesn’t have to talk. Maybe it’s enough if he just holds her and gives her a shoulder to cry on when there’s no one else around who can – just like he does for all the other babies in his family.