***Complete***Book 3 in a series involving the same group of friends**
Andrew Miller had a difficult upbringing and as a result his friends are his family. He worked hard to build a life for himself and wants nothing more than to find someone to sha...
It's been hours now and the time has come for me to start pushing. Andrew is behind me in the hospital bed holding me up and supporting me both physically and mentally. I can't believe this is happening to me. To us. Part of me just wants this to be over and another part of me wants it to go on forever because at least now my baby is still with me. The thought of having to hand her over to someone else and never see her again is almost more than I can bare.
The tears are back in full force and I don't have the energy to push.
"I can't. I can't do this."
Andrew turns my face so I can see him.
"Yes you can. Abigail you can do this. WE can do this. I'm right here with you sweetheart. Hit me, squeeze me, yell at me. Do whatever it is that you need to do and I will take it. I'd take all of your pain if I could, Abby."
He kisses me through both of our tears and I nod my head and turn back around. I hold Andrew's hands and squeeze as hard as I can as I push.
"That's it, Abby. You can do this."
He just keeps whispering words of encouragement in my ear as I push a few more times, and then our daughter is out. Andrew said beforehand hand that he would like to cut the cord so they hand him some scissors as he reaches around me to cut the umbilical cord. Then they take Olive away to wipe her off, weigh and measure her, and then wrap her in a blanket. When they bring her back the nurse places her in my arms.
She's beautiful. She has a little bit of dark hair on top of her head and all ten fingers and toes. I was thirty four weeks pregnant and had she not died in the womb she would of been fine. The doctor said she may of had a short stay in the NICU to help with her breathing and learning to eat but otherwise she would of been a healthy baby. She weighs just over five pounds and is just over sixteen and a half inches long. Had she made it full term she would of been a good sized baby, probably short like me, but still a good size.
Andrew is still behind me and brings his hand around to touch Olives tiny little cheek.
"She looks like her mommy. She's beautiful."
He chokes on the words and I close my eyes against the pain in his voice.
When I open them again I trace the slope of her nose.
"I don't know, I think she has your nose."
"You think?"
"I do."
The doctor cuts in.
"Abigail we need to deliver the placenta and then you and Andrew can have some time with your daughter."
I nod my head at him and turn to look at Andrew.
"Will you take her?"
"Of course."
He slides out from behind me and stands at the side of the bed as he holds his arms out.
I find it incredibly hard to hand her over, even though it's to Andrew and he'll be right beside me with her. Andrew must realize this because he bends down and brushes the hair from my face.
"I'll give her right back and I'll be right here the entire time."
Once again I just nod my head and then I place a gentle kiss on Olive's forehead before handing her to Andrew.
We're both painfully aware of the fact that she's no longer living but yet we still handle her we the utmost care. Andrew carefully cradles her in his arms, he even begins to sway as if to sooth her. As he takes her tiny hand in his I motion for the nurse to hand me my camera. Andrew doesn't notice because he's in his own world, it's just him and his daughter right now.
I bring my camera up and as I do Andrew brings her tiny hand to his lips and kisses it. He closes his eyes as a tear slides down his cheek and in the moment there is so much pain on his face that my heart shatters all over again for what might of been.
What might of been was us. A beautiful family. A family that was not planned but yet was filled with so much love and respect and admiration. And now? And now, we are broken.
I hand my camera back to the nurse and push a few more times until the placenta is delivered. When the doctor is all done a nurse brings in a small bathtub, some towels and soap so Andrew and I can give Olive a bath.
Once we're alone Andrew helps me from bed and wraps me in my robe. I'm sore but none of that matters now. All that matters is what little time I have left with my daughter.
We unwrap her from her blanket and I touch each little toe and fingertip before Andrew places her in the bath. We both take turns washing her. I take some photos and so does Andrew. I've shown him how to work my cameras before and he actually has a pretty good eye.
When she's all clean we dry her off and Andrew dresses her in the little outfit I had Noah bring. Almost everything we have for the baby is gender neutral since we didn't know whether we were having a boy or girl, but we did pick out one newborn boy and girl outfit for pictures in the hospital.
Andrew dresses Olive in the white onesie with lace detail on the sleeves and little lace detailed shorts. Along with that he places the flower crown on top of her head. The outfit is a little big since she's so so small but the lace sleeves stick out and she looks like a literal angel, so it's perfect. The sight of her takes my breath away. We both take pictures of each other with Olive and of Olive alone. I even set the timer so we can get a few family photos.
Some people may find taking pictures of their dead child morbid. I am not one of those people. My life is made up of pictures. It's how I view the world. My pictures tell my life story and even though this without a doubt is the most horrific part of my life story, I still want to remember it. I want to remember Olive. And I want to remember Andrew.
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