First Contest Hint (Question: What is Grace and Zach’s baby’s name?):
Moments later they shouted, “It’s a boy!” and suddenly the warm, slippery baby—my baby—was placed on a blanket on my chest. I hadn’t cried once, but now it flowed. I gazed at the tiny boy. Bits of blood clung to his face.
“He’s so cute,” I said. The moment seemed anticlimactic, but I was
shocked by how cute he really was and how instantly I fell in love. In childbirth class they prepared us for a squished head and beat-up face—but he was perfect.
Even the nurses said he looked like a C-section baby. “You’re so lucky,” they said.
“Hello, Henry,” I whispered. “Hello, my baby.”
Zach leaned over us, stroking my hair. I barely even noticed the contractions urging me to deliver the placenta.
After the cleaning up, weighing and Apgars, counting fingers and counting toes, everyone cleared out of the room so Henry and I could try nursing. The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows illuminating not just the room, but the Boston skyline as well. Henry
was surprisingly hungry and latched on right away. It hurt more than I expected; but it would get easier. I wanted to pinch myself. Was I dreaming? My son suckled at my breast. He was less than an hour old, but I’d known him forever.