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Hold Me Tight(78)

By:Faith Sullivan


“The entire pregnancy was hard,” she replies, placing her hand on top of mine. “This is something we can handle. She’s going to need two parents who are there for her and love her unconditionally. That’s why she was sent to us. She knew we needed her.”

I hear Dr. P. clear his throat, overwhelmed by what she is saying, and I don’t want to argue with her. I don’t, but it’s not that simple.

“Eric, listen to me,” she pleads, taking my hands in hers. “We can do this. I know we can.”

I turn my head away from her and gaze at Dr. P., stricken.

“We won’t know how severe the mental retardation is until she gets older,” he says gently. “She could be very high-functioning.”

“But you don’t know,” I say, pressing him for a solid answer.

“No, I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “But I think it’s safe to say that we’re going to do everything in our power to help her live a full and complete life.”

“Eric, she still hasn’t made it through the first forty-eight hours,” Ivy reminds me, drawing my attention back to her. “We have to take this one step at a time. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“But what if she’s never able to talk or tie her shoes or go to school,” I mutter, my mind spinning as the years flash before my eyes. “What if something happens to us and she’s left with no one to take care of her? What then?”

I feel lightheaded as the lack of sleep catches up with me. I stagger backward, pressing my back against the wall. I’ve never had a panic attack, but it feels like I’m experiencing one right now.

Dr. P. gets up from his desk and guides me into the empty chair next to Ivy. “Take some deep breaths for me,” he commands, and I close my eyes, feeling sick. His hand hovers over my neck, searching for my pulse. “You need to relax. Getting all upset isn’t going to help anybody.”

“Eric…” Ivy whispers, placing her hand on my knee.

“Ivy is absolutely right,” Dr. P. says with gusto, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “You can do this. When you love someone, you’re capable of more than you know.”

“And we’ll make sure that she’s provided for,” Ivy exclaims as I open my eyes to look at her. “No matter what.”

“But—” I falter.

“No buts.” She stops me, holding up her hand. “Dr. P. and I talked about this before and he sees no reason why we can’t have more children. Natalie won’t be alone. I swear to you that will never happen. We’re going to do everything in our power to provide her with a houseful of brothers and sisters who will take care of her when she gets older.”

I take a shaky breath. “I don’t know about a houseful.”

She smiles at me, tears glistening in her eyes. “Well, we’ll sure have fun trying.”

“We don’t even have anywhere to live,” I groan, feeling ten years older than when I first walked into the room. “I need to start—”

“Eric.” Ivy places her fingers atop my lips. “Natalie is going to be here most likely until Easter. We have plenty of time to sort everything out. I don’t care where we live as long as she’s there with us.”

“Please don’t think that I don’t love her because of this,” I whisper, feeling myself starting to cry again and hating myself for being so weak when Ivy’s being so unbelievably strong. “I love her even more if that’s humanly possible.”

“Eric, I never thought that,” she reassures me, reaching forward to caress my face. “I know how much it means to you to be a good provider and how it scares you when you think you can’t give the ones you love everything they need. But you’ve so got this, you hear me? All she needs is a father who loves her, and I know you’re going to give her more love than she knows what to do with.”

I lean into her, brushing my lips across hers, kissing her tenderly.

I break away when we hear a gentle knock on the door.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I thought you’d like to know that Santa is right outside the incubator room,” Wanda says, popping her head in. “It might be a nice shot if I wheel Natalie over to the glass so you can get her first picture with Santa.”

“Go,” Dr. P. urges, throwing up his hands as he dabs his eyes with a handkerchief. “I don’t want to miss this myself.”

I stroke my thumb across Ivy’s cheek, smiling into her eyes.

I’m just about to follow Wanda when my phone pings. Reaching down, I quickly read the text. My dad was able to come through for me. I’m going to be able to give Ivy the Christmas gift I wanted to.