Miracle
CWE Picture #10
Perfection.
It was a well-used word, trite even. Heaven knew Honey used it as a noun, verb and adjective. Perfectly-perfect was her catch phrase, but in this case, it was, well, perfectly-perfect.
The sunlight streamed in through the gauzy curtain, yet the object of his stare slept on, peacefully oblivious to both the shaft of light and his father’s watchful eye. He slept like his mother, on his stomach, with his hand fisted beneath his chin. Dan resisted the urge to roll the baby onto his back. Brian had assured him—again and again--that once Gabriel could roll himself over, it would be okay to let him sleep in his preferred position, but even though his son had been rolling over confidently for more than two months—could, in fact commando crawl himself across the floor, still Dan watched, making sure that the tiny back rose and fell with each gentle breath.
Not so tiny, he corrected himself. Sturdy. Strong. Maybe even a bit on the chubby side. But in the eyes of his father, Gabriel was still tiny. The baby sighed, his leg twitching as he shifted slightly on the blanket-draped couch cushion. Dan held his breath as his son settled back into his deep sleep, smiling as the pink lips pursed and sucked on a dream nipple.
With fingers that still shook a little with wonder even seven months after Gabriel’s birth, he reached forward and stroked the fine, silky dark hair, reveling in the warmth of the small body, the milky-sweet scent of his breath, and the rosy softness of his skin.
Perfection.
Every day he changed. Dan marveled at each new discovery; every skill the baby mastered, and silently cursed the time he spent away from his child, always regretting the smallest thing he may have missed while at work. Still, Tessa was really good at sharing the smallest of details, and he had been able to restructure his schedule so he only spent three days at the office each week. Two days each week he spent “quality time with his son. Right now, they were taking swimming lessons at the country club. Dan was the only father at the “Mommy and Me” class, and the object of many a curious stare, but it didn’t matter to him. What mattered was watching his son splash around in the pool.
Fatherhood had changed him in more ways than he had ever imagined. It thrilled and terrified him at the same time. From the moment Gabriel had emerged, squeaking in protest at the cold, bright world, Dan had been lost. He had cut the umbilical cord in a daze, somewhat surprised at how strong and tough it was to slice through with the long, silver scissors he’d been handed. His eyes had moved continuously between his wife and the team that was checking out the baby. When the nurse handed him his swaddled son, he had been speechless, tears running down his face in relief and joy as he cuddled the baby next to his chest, shielding the newborn’s eyes from the brightly lit room and whispering softly to him even as he propped himself up on the bed, sharing their miracle with is wife. As Tessa’s weary golden–green eyes spilled over with happy tears, he had placed their son in her arms, and wrapped his own arms around the both of them. This time, there would be no paper rainbow on their door. This time the storm had passed over them, leaving them unscathed. Making them a family.
“Dan?” Tessa’s voice pulled him from his reverie. He looked up to see her standing in the doorway. “Who wore out whom?” she asked with a smile, keeping her voice low.
“It was mutual,” he admitted, in an equally soft tone. “Gabe loves the water. I think he might be an Olympic swimmer someday.”
“It’s his Hawaiian heritage,” she teased. “He’s part fish.”
“He’s fearless,” Dan told her, his eyes tracking back to the baby. “This is only our second lesson, and most of the other babies have to be coaxed into the pool. Not ours. I swear he tries to jump in.”
“That’s because you’re there,” she told him, moving behind him and letting her slim fingers stroke his hair, mimicking the action his own fingers had used on their son. “Gabriel knows that he doesn’t have to be afraid if you’re there. Just like I’m not afraid when you’re with me. You love us far too much to let us be hurt.”
He looked at her, once again humbled by the faith she had in him. “I’ll always try to protect you,” he whispered. “Both of you.”
“I know,” she said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “We know.” Straightening, she held out her hand to him. “Let’s settle Gabriel in his bed, and maybe we can take a little nap, ourselves.”
Rising, Dan picked the baby up from his blanket on the couch, his heart swelling as Gabriel snuggled against his chest, burrowing his face against Dan’s neck, one baby fist finding its way into his tiny mouth.
The portable crib sat in the corner of the master suite, and Dan gently lay the baby down on his back. With a grumble and a sigh, Gabriel rolled himself on to his tummy. With a chuckle, Dan shook his head and drew the thin light blue blanket up over his son’s shoulders. “Sleep well,” he whispered. “Daddy loves you.”
He stood for a moment, just gazing at his sleeping son and thinking about the parable of the rainbow.
After the rain comes the rainbow. God’s promise. Dan remembered his mother reciting a poem that went something like, “No matter your trials, no matter the pain, God always sends rainbows, after the rain.” Looking at his sleeping son, he could feel the truth in those words. Lord knew the last eighteen months had been a roller coaster of hope and fear, but after the sorrow, after the pain and the grieving and the loss, Gabriel Thomas Anuenue Maypenny was a miracle. Their own blessed rainbow.
Author Notes:
This was written for CWE 3--A picture is worth a thousand words. It kind of ties into the Christmas story I wrote last year (2011) for PatK. This story will be part of the larger Connections Universe. Later.
Special thanks to Mal for a quick edit. Thanks, Mal!
