‘He’s ours, Matt.’ The wonder in her voice reflected how he felt. ‘And he’s so beautiful.’
‘Just like his mother.’ Matt was crying unashamedly and so was Ruth, but Constance was beaming.
‘Look at him,’ she whispered in awe. ‘He knows us.’
And it did seem as though the baby was aware of his surroundings as he looked around with huge eyes filled with curiosity. Stephen Matthew Heath. The best of blessings.
Once Ruth had cleaned Constance up and washed her and the baby, she left after more hugs and kisses. Constance had her son in her arms and Matt was sitting on the bed holding them both. ‘You were incredible,’ he murmured, stroking back a lock of hair from her flushed face. ‘So brave.’
Bringing their son into the world wasn’t brave, Constance thought. Bravery would be continuing to live and function as she had done for so many years with a void in her heart that was Matt-shaped. But she didn’t have to do that any more. The struggling, the emptiness, the aching aloneness were over. She had her husband and her son. She was complete.