Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(81)

Phillip brought her closer. “She’s a little lazy just yet, not sure she wants to breathe on her own. Would you like to hold her?”

“Can I?”

“Of course.” Phillip reached into the incubator and tenderly lifted the newborn from her bed, placing the tiny bundle into the cradle of Libby’s arms.

Libby sank into the rocking chair and was surprised when the baby opened her eyes and looked straight up at her. Their gazes connected and it seemed as if this tiny four-pound baby had found a soft place to nestle in Libby’s heart. To her surprise Libby’s eyes instantly moistened.

“I’d like to name her Amy Jo,” she whispered. “My … my mother’s middle name was Jo and I’ve always liked the name Amy.”

“Amy Jo,” Phillip repeated, standing behind her, his hand on Libby’s shoulder.

“I know you and Robin raised some excellent questions about me adopting this child. I had a few doubts myself, but the moment I saw her, I knew making her part of my life was the right decision. I’m going through with the adoption, Phillip. This baby is my daughter.”

His hand tightened briefly against her shoulder. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

His confidence in her meant everything to Libby. She crossed her arm over her chest and placed her hand on his resting on her shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered as the emotion clogged her throat.

Phillip leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck. “Congratulations, Momma.”

Libby was grateful they’d had the opportunity to talk about the changes bringing this child into her life would mean. She needed his support, and his heartfelt reassurance was enough to send a fresh batch of tears rolling down her cheeks. For a woman who rarely cried the tears seemed to flow with relative ease. Emotion blocked her throat. It’d been quite the day and it wasn’t over yet. She’d need to make all the legal arrangements necessary to start the adoption process and arrange for custody of the child until the adoption was formalized. Then she’d need to look into day-care options and prepare to bring Amy Jo home from the hospital. She had no crib, no stroller, no diapers. In fact, she had nothing.

“You were wonderful with Ava,” Phillip said. “Encouraging, supportive, helpful, and loving.”

Libby had been so preoccupied with Ava she’d barely noticed that Phillip had been in the labor room several times during the day. “I love Ava.” And Libby loved this baby, too. It astonished her that she could experience so much love for this tiny being when she hadn’t carried Amy Jo within her own body or physically given birth to her. Yet the instant Libby had laid eyes on her, she knew intuitively that this baby was hers, and that she was going to love her beyond anything she could ever have imagined.

Amy Jo’s birth would be the turning point for Libby. Her life would forever be marked by this day, the day she became a mother, the day when her world came to focus on this infant who’d been entrusted to her care. She had to believe God wanted Amy Jo to be part of her family.

Libby wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled up at Phillip as he lifted Amy Jo from her arms. He placed the baby girl back inside the enclosed crib that would help the baby breathe.

Libby left the neonatal intensive-care unit. The first person she phoned was her father.

He sounded surprised to hear from her after eight on a Monday night. “Everything all right?”

“Yes, I know this is late notice but I thought you should know I’ve made you a grandfather today.”

The returning silence was deafening. “You’re pregnant?”

“No, I’m adopting a baby girl. She was born just an hour ago. I’m naming her Amy Jo. The Jo part is for Mom. She’s tiny, just over four pounds, and she’ll need to remain in the hospital for a week or so, but everything should be fine.”

“Adopting a baby?” he repeated, sounding shocked.

“You’re going to love her, Dad. Your first grandchild.”

“Yes … I suppose I will.”

“Sorry to make this so short but I’ve got a zillion things to do.”

“Okay, well, congratulations.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

This was probably one of the longest telephone conversations Libby had experienced with her father in the last ten years. She felt good; in fact, she felt wonderful. The next person she phoned was Robin.

“It’s a girl,” she cried.

“Ava had her baby?”

“An hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you text me?” Robin cried. “I would have come to the hospital.”

Libby had badly wanted to contact her friend but she hadn’t been able to. “Ava wouldn’t let me leave her side for more than a minute. She did great, by the way. That girl has got grit.”

“Are you ready?”

“Ready?”

“Do you have what you need to bring her home from the hospital?”

“Not a single thing.” Libby started to giggle. “The truth is that for someone as focused and organized as me, I’m vastly unprepared. Obviously I had no idea she’d choose to arrive four weeks early.”

“What time is it?” Robin asked.

“After eight,” Libby said, checking her watch.

“The stores are closed; you’ll need to go in the morning and I’m coming with you,” Robin announced.