Cally smiled and closed her gown. The baby was asleep, nestled in next to her on the bed. I wanted to pick her up again and hold her some more, but it didn’t seem right. I wished Hal were here. After all, this was his daughter, too.

“I’ll let you rest,” I said as I backed out of the room. I went to the family lounge, where there was a story about a press conference given by Ari Fleischer. Something about Kissinger. I felt a twinge of sadness about being behind on the news. Hal was at work, but this was my first day of leave.

Alone in a generic waiting room, in the recovery wing with nothing to recover from.

Hal had said he’d try to swing by over the lunch hour but not to stress if he didn’t make it. All the clocks on the maternity floor showed slightly different times, but the one in the family lounge said 12:07. I thought about going to the cafeteria for a bite to eat, but I didn’t want to miss Hal in case he arrived. I stepped into the hallway, and there he was! My heart raced when I recognized the outline of his frame, as well as his casual gait. I’d recognize him anywhere, the way he strode along without a care in the world. “Hal!” I called, walking as quickly as I could toward him.

“No running,” said one of the nurses, maybe as a joke.

I fell into Hal’s arms, not realizing how much I needed him. Not knowing how important it had been to me that he would appear. This was our child. This was our miracle. We needed to be together. I caught one of the nurses watching us, watching Hal. I was used to Hal catching the attention of women. He was immune to it.

“Let’s go see our daughter,” I said.

“Lead the way,” he said, and I pulled him by the hand back to Cally’s room.

“Shh,” I said, “she’s asleep.”

“Cally or the baby?” Hal whispered.

“Cally,” I whispered back, smiling.

I led him to the bassinet, and he reached down to pick up our girl. “Come on,” he said, like a pro.

“You’re good with her,” I said.

“Had some experience,” he said as he positioned the bundle of joy into the crook of his arm and wiped something off her face. “Aren’t you a beauty?” The monitor beeped, and there were no nurses in sight. It was absolute bliss.

“Look,” I said, quietly pointing to the end of the bassinet.

“‘Baby Girl Olson,’” Hal read the sign taped there. “It’s got a ring to it.”

“Ha-ha, but honey, seriously, we need to decide on a name.”

“Not really. We have thirty days by state law.”

“Always the lawyer’s point of view.”

“Let’s take her for a walk,” said Hal, motioning toward the door