Little Blue Jay

The cries seemed so surreal that I almost thought they were automated. There was no way a real human could be making that sound. Tears dripped down my face as my forehead scrunched so much that my years of retinol and moisturizer were thrown out the window. I’m a wrinkly-foreheaded mom now. But I’m okay with it. The feeling in my heart isn’t palpitations, but instead a feeling of soul-crushing ecstasy. The kind that you want to hold on to forever, because you know that no other moment in your life will top it- but you also can’t wait for it to be over, because you don’t think there’s any way your heart can bear so much emotion.Everyone else in the room was moving so fast, but I wanted to freeze this moment forever. I could die happy if I lived the rest of my life right here, in this hospital bed. 

The cries softened to coos, and I felt my heart melt just a little bit more. As she began to fall asleep, I silently scooted to the far end of the bed, and Silas knew exactly what I wanted him to do. He quietly lifted the paper-thin sheet, and pulled it over his lap. He pressed the softest kiss to my temple, almost scared that if he pressed even a fraction too hard, she would wake and destroy the moment. 

“What do we name her?” he whispered, and I pondered his question. The faint beeping of some monitor behind me lulled me deep into thought.

I thought about the life I’ve lived thus far- all the beautiful, treacherous, and mediocre moments I’ve experienced, and then I brought myself back to this moment. What name could do this day justice? When I was a child, I always told everyone that if I’d ever have a daughter, her name would be Alexis. My elementary school best friend’s name was Alexis. I thought she was the coolest girl in the world, and I’d be friends with her forever. She killed herself in high school, after her mom died of cancer. I decided I’d need to find a new name for my future daughter- as if the name Alexis was cursed for all of eternity. 

When I was in college, my parents went through a divorce. They were traditional Catholics, and divorce was never something I had imagined for them. I resented them for a long time because of the divorce. During that time, I had dreamed of naming my kid something super edgy- like Blaze, or Ripley- because I knew it’d piss them off. But that was unfair to my kid. 

In my mid twenties, I lived alone and didn’t date. I was convinced I’d spend the rest of my life by my lonesome. I dressed like a librarian, and was more introverted than an earthworm. I swore I didn’t want kids, because I never thought I’d find someone to have them with. 

Now I’m here, in a warm hospital bed, with a sandy-blonde haired daughter, who is 3 hours old, and a husband who held my hand the whole time. And I don’t know what to name her. I rest my head on Silas’ shoulder and whimper pathetically, as small, slow tears fall out of my eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying not to let the emotion in my voice show. “I don’t know.” My whole life, I’ve prepared for this exact moment, and now I don’t even know how to act. Silas chuckled softly. 

“I know,” he started, still making sure to stay quiet. What did he know? “ Nora.” And suddenly, I knew, too. I nodded my head against his shoulder. The tears spilled out faster now, but they weren’t sad tears. 

Silas’ mother, Eleanora, was my English professor during my junior year of college. She was the teacher that I would remember forever. I nicknamed her Ellie. She was the reason I became and English teacher. She was a mom to me when my own mother couldn’t be. She listened to my woes, she cried with me, and when it was time, she also told me to let it go, and move on. She laughed with me, she smiled with me, and she was the only one who celebrated with me when I was accepted into my master’s program. She never pushed Silas onto me. It was never like that with her. In fact, I didn’t even meet Silas until well after I had graduated college. It was at the retirement party he threw for her. Even then, it was a friendly introduction between the two of us, and then we parted ways for the evening. Subsequently, I’d get to know him better through the Sunday dinners that Ellie would force me into. All of the best memories of my life were with Ellie and Silas. Looking back on it, Silas and I were inevitable. We fell in love slowly- becoming the best of friends beforehand. We dated for three years before we got married. Our wedding was just us and Ellie in a courtroom. We were broke, in debt, and it was everything we had ever dreamed of. 

Ellie went missing 2 years ago, on my 30th birthday. December 10th. We were driving to Cape Cod, to celebrate for a long weekend. Nobody goes to the Cape in December- so we did. I remember the exact moment the police called Silas, and told him that Ellie’s little light blue corolla was left running at a gas station in Norfolk, Connecticut- the middle of absolute nowhere. We cried together for 4 months straight after that. Ellie was more than just a light, she was unlike anybody else I’d ever known. The grief was unbearable, but somehow, we moved through it. 

I cried against Silas’ shoulder as I thought about it. It was the most perfect name. Not too much like Ellie’s, but similar enough that we’d think of her whenever we saw it. I loved it. 

“Nora Catherine, but we’ll spell it with a C,” he whispered again. “I’m so proud of you.” He finished, pressing another soft kiss to my temple. I couldn’t hold my sobs back anymore. Katherine is my middle name. I began to feel that overwhelming emotion again. The feeling of uninhibited joy, mixed with utter devastation. Nothing could ever come close to this moment. There was nothing in the world that could make this moment any more perfect than it already is.

Eventually, the tears stopped, and my breathing steadied. I think Silas has fallen asleep, and I’m not far behind him. I put Nora in the hospital bassinet rolled right next to my bed, and watch for a moment while her mouth makes the sweetest little noises. I leave one hand in the bassinet, where she holds onto my pinky, and with my other hand I grab Silas’ arm and snuggle back into his side, to fall asleep with him. 

Before I close my eyes, I look out the window and watch as a wonderfully sunny day fades to dusk, and vibrant pinks and oranges light up a darkening sky. A little blue jay lands on the outside window sill, looking in on our little family. My heart skips the quietest little beat.

“Hi, mom,” Silas whispers. And I begin to feel that feeling again, for the third time today. This time, though, there’s a secondary feeling of content. And, for once in my life, I know I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.