She was beautiful, and we must have taken a hundred pictures of her. When Ruth snapped a shot of the proud father, she compared me to a photo she’d seen of a gorilla cradling a fallen bird. I took it as a compliment, although I already knew I was a natural. Even Cally said so.

Ruth and I sat there grinning at the sleeping baby and lost all track of time. We were in love, in love with time itself, in our own new world. It could have been storming outside or flooding inside, and we wouldn’t have noticed. We had our little girl.

And then they kicked us out. Politely, of course. The nurses said the birth mom needed her rest, and they’d soon be moving her to a recovery room. They suggested we get a bite to eat and come back in a couple of hours. But since we both had a car at the hospital, I suggested we drive home for supper and then return in one vehicle. Which was what we did.

RUTH

Later that evening, back at the hospital, we found Cally in her new room, the recovery room. She was groggy, but she smiled at us when we tiptoed in. We lifted our daughter out of the bassinet and sat in the visitor chairs. I placed her on my lap for a good look.

I had expected the baby to be more awake and less wrinkly. Her eyes were squinted shut, as if the world was too much, too soon. For some reason, I’d imagined her nose to be more like a tiny rosebud, like in commercials. But hers seemed a bit big for her face, like a mushroom, and she had no chin. Her forehead was low, and she had so much black hair. Overall she looked like a shrunken-up miniature weight lifter. Her skin was purplish red and uneven, blotchy. She had pimples on her face, a bruise-like stain on her neck, and a smaller one on the back of her left hand.

“Strawberries,” the nurse had explained. “Very common. They’ll fade away, and her complexion will clear up.”

“How soon?” I asked.

“Usually within the first few weeks,” said the nurse.

Otherwise, she was perfect. Ten toes. Ten fingers. She was sweet. I don’t know how long I’d been studying her when Hal came and took her away. He said it was probably time for us to leave and that Cally needed to rest. I didn’t hear the nurse say that. I couldn’t think of any good reason we should leave. But Hal was convinced we should get out of their way. “Fine,” I whined, picking up my coat and purse.