"Just one more prod, Aria! You almost there!"
As I gritted my teeth, calling every last bit of strength I possessed, the midwife's voice was steady and her hands strong on mine. Pain washed over me in unrelenting waves, each one stronger than the last. I gripped the cot's edge with fingers as though they might ground me.
The pressure dropped with one last guttural scream. The room was filled with a beautiful, piercing cry—strong and unambiguous. As I heard my son's first breaths, my whole body slumped in relief, the pain fading.
As the midwife cradled the small, wriggling form and wrapped him in a soft blanket, her face softened. Her hands were gentle. She gently said, "You have a strong one here," then set him in my arms.
Heart pounding, I looked down to meet his sight. Your son. Though his little hands tightened into fists and his face flushed, he was flawless. With wide, inquisitive eyes, he gazed up at me and I saw Logan and a bit of me. Though my chest tightened, I pushed the ache aside.
I whispered, brushing a quivering finger across his cheek. Ethan. " Welcome to the world, Ethan."
Another little cry came from him; his small hands seemed to be reaching for consolation. I held him closer, letting him curl up against me automatically. I felt something strong and purposeful in that instant—a surge of will and direction I had not known was feasible. This was my son, and I would do all it took to give him the life he deserved and to guard him.
The days went by and I found myself in the cadence of new motherhood. With his cries, needs, and small moments of delight, Ethan filled my days—and my evenings. I came to identify the several sounds he produced, the way his face would scrunch up when he was ready to cry, and the tiny contented sighs he would produce following a meal. More than I had ever imagined, it was draining, but every look at his calm, sleeping face gave me a reason to keep on.
Even among the beauty of those times, though, there was an undercurrent of suffering, an ache that persisted in the quiet hours Ethan slipped off to sleep. My mind would wander back to Logan in those times, by myself in the low glow of the candlelight. Back to the life I had left behind, to the pack and family I had turned away.
Sometimes I would find myself wondering whether Logan had moved on, whether he thought of me, whether he knew he had a son. Reminded myself that I had made this decision for Ethan's benefit and shook the ideas away as best as I could. But the hurt stayed, buried deep inside me and invisible to others.
One night I let myself say the words I had been holding captive for so long as I cradled Ethan in my arms and watched his small chest rise and fall.
I said, "I'm going to protect you, Ethan," softly kissing his forehead. Nobody will ever cause you to feel unwelcome. Always you will have a family and a place. Though it will hurt, I will be strong for you.
The next months taught me to let that strength carry me. The little ceremonies we created together gave me comfort. I carried him with me as I went about my daily tasks, and draped the knitted blankets Mrs. Jensen had given us around him. We spent quiet afternoons by the stream, the sun bathing us in a warm glow as I sang lullabies to calm him.
Ethan developed rapidly, his little personality flowering daily. Curious, his eyes constantly watched and studied his surroundings with an intensity that made me grin. And he was strong, not fussing too much even in trying circumstances. He seemed to be already aware that we were in this together, that he was my anchor as much as I was.
As we sat by the fire one afternoon, Ethan stretched up and his tiny fingers encircled my hand. His steady, unflinching stare met mine, and I felt a flood of feeling swell within me. Under his touch, in his quiet strength, I found my own. He was my reason, my heart, and for as long as I had him, I knew I could handle anything.
Brushing a tear from my cheek, I grinned down at him. "We will be just fine, Ethan," I said softly. "You and me, we are more robust than anything life presents."
And in that instant, with his little hand in mine, I sensed the last bits of my heart start to mend.