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“Hello, Adam.”
Deirdre looked down at the precious baby boy in the hospital bassinet. She had just woken to the sound of his fussy little cry. She’d smiled when Arthur had wheeled him closer to her bedside and offered up Adam as a potential name. Then, in that moment when she had said his name for the first time, Deirdre felt like she could see the future.
She saw the joys of Adam’s first steps, his first words, discovering his favorite food or toy or color, the happy celebrations of this day for years to come. She felt the bitter-sweet mix of pride and sadness that would come with dropping him at school for the first time, watching him pedal off on his bike to play with his new friends, realizing the challenges he would face as he navigates this world with both his father’s stubbornness and her sense of right and wrong.
All of this washed over her in an instant. It overwhelmed her already exhausted system, and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She noticed Arthur’s surprise, his hesitant step towards her from the other side of the bassinet. Deirdre realized that Arthur didn’t quite know how to respond to her display of emotion. So, she did what she always had done. She reached out to him. He caught her hand, holding it above the crimson-swaddled newborn between them.
“Have you greeted him yet?”
“Oh! No, I don’t suppose I have.” Deirdre knew that tone of voice. Arthur hadn’t realized that this was something he was supposed to do. He looked down, his gaze traveling past their clasped hands. Her heart swelled with love for her little family as she watched her husband’s features grow tender.
“Hello, son.”