Monday, March 13, 4:00 PM. Amy.

Elizabeth Jane Wilcox arrived this morning. She is 7 pounds 10 ounces, and so, so beautiful. She looks like Brewer. Thank God, she looks like Brewer. He knows that. As soon as she came out, he stared at her face from every angle, took inventory of her fingers and toes, then declared through tears that she is ours. We cried together, all four of us. Claire was there.

I wish you could’ve been here to see her, Mom.

I thought I wouldn’t make it. My water broke at 1 AM and woke me up. Within an hour the contractions were already feeling pretty strong. I took a hot shower. Brewer was with me. He helped me move as well as he could between the bathroom and the bed. We got Claire up and told her what was happening. She looked petrified for a minute, then her face cleared and she put on a nurse’s businesslike expression and started gathering towels and forceps and such.

By 4 AM the contractions were intense. If I ever get pregnant again I hope they shoot me. Why we women keep signing up for the same agony over and over again I cannot imagine. I swear these were the worst contractions I’ve ever had. It went on and on for what felt like hours.

I couldn’t have done it without Claire. That girl…she takes after her grandma, Mom. If there were any medical schools left I’d sign her up to be a doctor. Even with all the screaming and bleeding she never flinched. She wiped my sweat. Gave me my sips of Gatorade. She caught the baby. She clamped the umbilical; helped Brewer snip it when he couldn’t work the scissors.

Garrett came in and together they did the Apgar tests. They argued about the score, but I could tell she was healthy.

She’s perfect. She has beautiful eyes, beautiful hair, a beautiful cry, she’s an angel. She looks like you and she looks like Brewer. She looks like everyone I’ve ever loved.

She had no problem latching on. I guess I’m what they call an old hand.

Claire took her out to Garrett and Trevor and they got to know her. Brewer and I joined them after I’d rested a little while. They were on the sofa, quietly discussing what to call her. I had been thinking we’d call her “Lizzie,” after Miss Bennett, but that doesn’t seem a popular choice. Garrett said it reminds him of “lizard,“ and now that I’ve heard it I can’t un-hear it.

I’m thankful, so thankful she has arrived healthy.