Mary looked at her husband with a wide smile. "I'm supposed to be panicking, not you." John gave a lopsided shrug, mostly because his one shoulder was weighed down by the two duffle bags, and his other hand tightly gripped Mary's purse. The labor pains weren't too bad yet but she knew the worse was still to come - and yet, John looked more frightened than she did.
"Can't help it. You ready?" He asked, adjusting the bags so he could stand a bit straighter.
She nodded, picking up the small, pink blanket from the table. She'd found it at the garage sale where she'd bought the ceramic angel. Mary hadn't told John but she felt certain that the baby she carried was a girl. Maybe it was partially a great hope because she desperately wanted to name her child Deanna, after her beloved mother.
"I'll put these in the car." John headed out the door, asking one more time if she was alright to walk alone, then disappeared.
Mary followed, tucking the blanket into her coat pocket. Placing a hand on her pronounced belly, she whispered, "Soon, love."
She couldn't see him through her tears but she heard his cries. He sounded perfect; healthy and strong. John's hand gripped her's, giving a strong squeeze in response to her trembling. The pain had been excruciating, but she had held her tears, until the Doctor announced, "It's a boy." Mary felt no disappointment in knowing that her child couldn't carry on her mother's name, but she did feel a twinge of sadness. Of course, her hormones were all over and she couldn't account for why she had cried several times in the past few weeks.
"He's perfect," John whispered against her ear, his free hand stroking her damp hair. "He's perfect."
Mary wiped her eyes when the nurse neared, her small baby boy wrapped tightly in a blue blanket. "Here he is," she quietly said, placing the baby in his Mother's arms. The child immediately quieted but his tiny body still shook from his sobs.
Mary looked at him with awe, completely lost in the baby's eyes. Green, wide, and filled with curiosity. She heard John talking to him but beyond his words, she heard the unsteadiness of his voice. She looked at him and saw a single tear roll down his cheek. He swept it away and shook his head, grinning. "You okay?" she asked with her own smile.
He nodded and leaned forward, kissing her forehead. They stared at their child for a moment, neither able to form words to properly fit the awe they felt.
"What do you think of Dean?"
Mary's eyes met John's. "What?"
"Well I know you wanted to have a girl and call her Deanna, but… how's Dean?"
Her eyes burned once more as she looked back to her son. "Dean." It was perfect.
The small boy made no sound as they drove home in the Impala. He seemed as comfortable in the loud vehicle as he had in the hospital bed. Mary held him a little tighter when they would hit a bump and Dean made no reaction. John kept the car at the lowest speed he could without bothering other drivers.
"Well, we're home," He said with a smile as he turned the car off and slipped out, hurrying around to open the passenger door.
It had only been a few days but Mary had so missed their home. She couldn't wait to sit on the couch with her son and read him stories, then place him in his crib with the small angel watching above. Dean fussed a little on the short walk and then settled again when John opened the front door and Mary stepped in. It was a cold January morning but the house felt warm and inviting in contrast.
Mary stopped in the living room and gently lowered the blanket around the baby's head. "Welcome home, Dean," she whispered against his cheek before placing a kiss there. The boy's hand raised and touched her face.
John gathered their bags from the car, set them in the hallway, and wrapped his arms around his wife. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gazed down to their sleepy child. "We're gonna be okay at this."
"Yeah," she replied, smiling broadly. "I think so."