A WEEK LATER...
FATIMA
It's been some time and everything is going better. We basically live in the hospital. Mimi brought me some lactation tea to help me start producing milk since I had the twins so early my milk hasn't came in yet. I'm not losing hope because I know in due time it's going to happen.
My incision site isn't as painful as before and I'm grateful. I have yet to see the twins and quite frankly I'm scared. I feel like it was my fault that they were born too early. Zac has refused to see them.
But today, I knew I had to face it. Zac had been encouraging me, gently, never pushing, but I could see it in his eyes. He wanted me to meet them, to see how strong they were, to bond with them. And deep down, I wanted that too.
As we walked down the sterile hallway towards the NICU, Zac's hand wrapped around mine, steadying me. My heart pounded in my chest, each step feeling heavier than the last. What would they look like? Would they be hooked up to machines? Could I handle it?
"I'm right here, Fatima," Zac whispered, as if sensing my thoughts. "We're doing this together."
I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I was reassuring him or myself. When we reached the door, I paused, taking a deep breath before we stepped inside. The quiet hum of machines filled the room, and there they were—our tiny babies. So small, so perfect, nestled in their incubators, fighting every moment to grow stronger.
I felt my chest tighten, but not from fear anymore. It was awe, love, and relief all at once. Zac gently guided me to one of the incubators, his arm around my waist. "Meet our little warriors," he whispered, his voice filled with pride.
I reached out, my hand trembling slightly as I touched the glass. They were so much more than I had imagined—so tiny, but already so full of life. Tears welled up in my eyes, and Zac squeezed my hand.
"They're beautiful," I whispered, my voice breaking.
"They are," he agreed softly, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "Just like their mom."
In that moment, I knew everything would be okay. Our twins were fighters, and so was I.
I never noticed how we didn't know the gender of them. I looked down at the names. "Baby B Taylor, Girl, and Baby A Taylor, Boy." I read.
"Baby we got another girl." My husband said as he squeezed my hand.
"I see baby, we also got is a baby boy." I said to him with a smile that could touch my eyebrows.
"You know it seems like I really be producing boys more than girls." He said to me and I laughed lightly.
"Yes sir you do, six whole boys and two girls." I said to him.
They were so small, smaller than I ever imagined, with tiny hands and feet that looked impossibly delicate. It hurt, seeing them like this, surrounded by wires and monitors, knowing we couldn't just pick them up and hold them close. A part of me ached for that, for the simple joy of cradling them in my arms.
But as I watched their little chests rise and fall, each breath a testament to their strength, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. They were here. They were alive, and they were fighting. And that was enough.
"They're beautiful," Zac said softly, his hand resting on the small of my back. I could hear the mix of pride and pain in his voice, and it mirrored my own feelings perfectly.
I nodded, blinking back tears. "They are. So beautiful. I just wish..." My voice trailed off as I watched one of them stretch a tiny arm, their fingers barely curling into a fist. "I wish we could hold them."
