Chapter 18: Only the Handle

Joy left the hospital on Friday morning in a car seat that was too big for her.

The nurses had rolled blankets down both sides to hold her in place.

She wore the cream hat with the green stripe and a gown two sizes too large.

She weighed five pounds and one ounce.

Thirty days after she was born, she was finally leaving the building.

Lorna stood at the unit door with her phone out, crying and filming at the same time.

"I'm a labor nurse," she said. "I do this for a living. Don't look at me."

Peggy stood beside her with both hands pressed against her mouth.

The charge nurse who had been on shift the night Nate's badge beeped red came out from behind the desk.

She held out her arms.

I let her hold Joy for ten seconds.

"You did this," the nurse said into the blanket. "You did all of it, mama."

"We did," I said.

I looked past her at the glass doors.

Nate stood on the other side of them in a clean flannel shirt.

He had asked the social worker for permission.

She had written one line on her form: Father may carry car seat to vehicle. No other contact.

I'd asked for that line myself.

He hadn't argued.

I nodded to the nurse, and the doors opened.

He came in so quietly that Joy didn't wake.

He crouched by the car seat and looked at her for a long time.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Just the handle."

He took hold of it with both hands.

He lifted it with both arms, slowly.

"She's heavier," he whispered.

"She's been eating."

"Hi, Joy." He walked beside me down the long corridor with his elbows locked. "Hi. It's your dad. We're going outside."

At the elevator, a man from housekeeping pressed the button for us and looked away.

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