"Are you sure you're all right?"

I'm glad I turned on the bedside lamp so I can see Russell's face. He has this amazed look of wonder, hope and love that makes fresh tears come once more. After the devastating blow of miscarrying our first child...who would have been due in just another couple of months...news that we're expecting again is one of the best things I could give him right now. The last little while, beginning with our separation, continuing on with us reconciling, then the shock and horror of losing a baby that we didn't even know we were having...Russ' depression and our struggles to deal with life, love, and all of the ups and downs...have been difficult for both of us.

I do know there are no easy answers, no immediate solutions, and even with the joy of this pregnancy, no finale to our grieving process over the loss of the other baby yet. The heartache is still very real for the two of us; and there are no guarantees with this child, either. But living with Russell, loving him, has always been full of unknowns. I took a chance when I married him...realizing that our life together would be more unconventional and yet, at the same time, more wonderful than anything I could ever have imagined. We're taking a chance now, trying to have another baby so soon after the prior tragedy. But ultimately, it's worth it, when I look at him lying here beside me, and I think of how very much I love him. This man, so brave and so strong, has weathered a lot, has fought and endured, and I'm so proud of him for trying, even as I realize that he's only human, despite the larger-than-life tough warrior the rest of the world sees him as.

And it was that side of him I loved to begin with...that side of him that I cherish the most, because it's real and honest and truly who he is. 

"A little sick...but I'm being careful...taking care of myself..." 

He smiles then and kisses the tip of my nose. "Now I'm here to take care of you." 

I burrow further into his embrace. "Welcome home." 

Gently, his palm smoothes over my belly, first on top of his flannel shirt I always wear to bed as a nightie, then slips beneath to touch my warm, bare skin. "Can I see?" I know he means the changes the baby's making within my body. Before, with the other pregnancy, our world was turned upside-down from our separation, and I wasn't really looking after my health to begin with then, so neither of us suspected I was pregnant until it became too late. The doctor's assured us, time and again, that it wasn't anything either of us did or didn't do but ultimately an act of Nature. It took us both a long time to come to terms with that, though.

But we're both concentrating on the here and now, a real new beginning with the advent of this coming child. Suddenly feeling a little bit shy, I answer, "Yes," and let him draw his flannie up and over my head, leaving me clad in only my bikini panties. I try to lie still as his gaze travels carefully over my bared self, but it's hard when we've actually been apart again for several weeks and we're both in bed, and despite myself I can feel that slow burning ache begin to take over. Right now, he's not looking at me with lust, but with genuine, concerned interest, the miracle of this undeniable and very powerful.

"You can hardly tell," I whisper, but then my eyes meet his and I see him swallow, choked with emotion as his hand covers the slight slope of my belly again. I should know that he, of all people, someone who knows my body almost as intimately and as well as I know it myself, would be able to distinguish minute differences throughout.

"No, I can see it." His tone, although soft, also has a rough edge to it, as he's overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings right now. "Here...you're just a little fuller..." he slides up to lightly cup a breast, his fingers stroking tenderly, "....You're fuller here, too, and your nipples are darker." Dipping his head down, he nuzzles me there and I make a small sound of pleasure, arching my back at his touch. "God, you're lovely, Lissy. You're so sensitive to me...I love that..." There's a moment of hushed silence as we look at each other. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart." He reaches for me, kissing me softly, as I bury both my hands in his hair and hold him to me. Pulling back just barely, he whispers, "Can we...is it all right to...?"

"Yeah." 

"Don't want to hurt you...I'll be so careful, Liss, I promise..."

"You won't hurt me, or the baby. I trust you." 

There's another heartbeat of revelation at my words. Trust: such a simple thing, really, but at the same time, sometimes such a difficult thing to earn and to keep. But I've always trusted Russell, even through all the disappointments and the depression, the fear and the worry...even when there was doubt, there was always, someplace deep down inside of myself, the faith and the love. This time, there's not a single trace of anything negative as I look at him.

"Sure?" he queries, trying to make light of it with one of his sweet smiles, but I sense the underlying seriousness behind that one word.

"Sure you won't hurt me, or sure that I trust you?" We're lying on our sides now, facing each other. Everything that's happened over the last bit of time has subtly changed us again, but I feel we're growing together and we're slowly beginning to heal. My fingers run through his long, silky hair and then downward, to trace every proud, strong feature of his handsome face. "I'm sure of both. I love you, Russ. I love you."

"Liss...baby..." I see the emotions flood his face and feel tears start up once more as he kisses me, slowly this time---or are they his? I can't be sure. When he looks at me, he grins and I feel my heart swell with joy at finding him all over again. "Think we've had enough tears for awhile," he teases. "Save them for when the baby arrives."

"It's...it's because of the pregnancy...and my elevated hormonal state..." But I see his suspiciously shiny eyes and have to tease back, "What's your excuse, then?"

"No excuses." He sighs and says, "Not anymore." 

I simply smile and wrap my arms around him, holding him close. 

Soon the mood shifts, and all we're concerned with is loving each other. My body's acutely sensitive; it always has been to his, but even more so because of the baby. Somehow he realizes this immediately and is very gentle, but he holds not a single thing back from me, either. Everything he is, everything he feels, he gives to me now, and I hold onto it, treasure it as a part of him. I think of the child within me, a part of both of us...the best of both of us...and feel so grateful it's going to know this kind of love.

We make love, tenderly, thoroughly, and I enjoy watching him, seeing the pleasure and the joy he takes from me, with me. Russell is so giving, so caring...he's got such a great capacity for love, and I know he'll be a wonderful father. It's the side of him few people know about, but it's always been apparent to me, even from the beginning.

Afterwards, he just holds me close to him, neither of us saying anything, the peaceful silence punctuated by kisses and touching here and there. Then he says, his voice deep and low, "I've found my dreams with you, Lissy."

I lift my head and smile at him. He goes on, "Even before you told me about this...about the baby...you're all I could ever want. All I could ever need." 

"Russ..." I don't know what to say. I took everything I thought I knew about our relationship for granted. I realized that when we began having problems and separated, then once again when I had the miscarriage and we lost the first child we were expecting. Maybe he did, too. And I'm sorry that it took all of this heartache and agony for us to discover what we truly mean to each other, but I'm so glad we're finding our way back towards one another now. My lip trembles and he catches my face in his hand, running his thumb over it, back and forth in a soothing gesture. "No more tears," he chides gently.

"No." But I sniffle, just a little, and look into his eyes. "I love you." 

"I love you, Liss." He covers my belly with his palm again---he can't neatly cover it like he once was able to, a fact both of us notice and have to smile about---and then he asks, "So...we're at a couple of months...like the last time..."

"It's okay." I place my hand over his, relax in his embrace...pleasantly tired after our lovemaking...and sigh contentedly when he kisses my cheek. "I feel good this time out, strong and healthy...and they're going to monitor me carefully with this one. I'm kind of a high-risk case, you know." He stiffens and I explain, "It's only because I've already had a miscarriage..." despite the pain that word still causes, it feels good to be able to even discuss it freely with him, "...and the fact I'm over thirty-five. That's all. Just to be safe. But so far, I'm a nice, normal, textbook- perfect pregnant mum-to-be...almost boring, really."

He has to laugh then. "You're anything but boring, Lissy." 

I joke, "But will you still find me attractive in about five or six months when I have a belly out to there, swollen ankles...or when I wake up in the morning and you find me heaving my guts up in the bathroom?"

Looking at me with total seriousness, he answers, "Yeah." My heart does a funny little leaping dance at his honest admission. 

"Sweetheart..." he kisses the tip of my nose, and I have to warn, "If you break into singing "Having My Baby" right now, I'll have to hurt you." 

"But you are." He looks pleased as punch with himself, a fact that makes me giggle. It feels so good to be like this again, joking, laughing, loving each other with all we've got. "Sure there's only gonna be the one?"

"Do you WANT more than one at once?" I look at him with mock stern disapproval. "You know, we've not really talked about this in any detail...how many kids do you plan on us having, anyhow?"

"As many as you'll let me knock you up with." He grins and I have to giggle once more. "Seriously, though, let's just concentrate on bringing this one into the world all right and then it's open for discussion. But, there's no chance there's multiples?"

"No, it's just one baby." I have to laugh aloud again at his sigh of relief. "Twins don't run in my family...although, out of the blue, one of my cousins had twin boys once...but I'm happy with having this one."

"I'm just happy." I look at him and I feel so glad to see him at peace right now. With himself, with me, with life. 

"Me too," I reply, and then he snuggles me even closer to him...if that's possible...and we go to sleep, wrapped around each other. 

I'm surprisingly NOT sick when we both wake late in the morning...I think because he's home now and my stress level is lightened. We can't contain our excitement about the coming child, so we break the news to his family and then call mine as soon as it's an acceptable time over in the States. Everyone is thrilled, understandably...the miscarriage caused a lot of heartbreak to all of us. We swear everybody to secrecy, not wanting the news to become public until I begin to start showing and we can't keep it a secret any longer.

Russ wants to completely cancel finishing the recording session with the band in Sydney; but I convince him it'll be okay. We decide to spend some time at home first though and then we'll go. I already have a doctor's appointment scheduled there for next month; in another couple thereafter we can find out the sex of the baby. Tentatively, we've decided to do that, so we can plan and prepare, start choosing names. I realize that after what we went through before, this is taking chances again, but if I've learned anything from our recent trials, it's that life's too short to keep worrying about what might happen, what could go wrong, and that we need to start concentrating on the happiness we can find. And embrace it without hesitation.

The most important thing the two of us do is talk. There are still a lot of storms to weather, but it'll be together, like I've vowed to him it would be. Every day I find something new out about Russell, some hidden gem of his personality or his thoughts, that I never knew before...which makes me love him all the more. He discovers a lot about me, too, and in the process of communicating, of trying to be open and honest with one another, we discover a lot about us as a couple.

We work through our grief about the loss of the first child we were expecting. He worries about what the stress of that will do to this pregnancy, but we realize that in order to give the best of what we can to this baby; we have to make some sort of peace with the memory of the other one. It's hard; the intrinsic differences between my nature and his, the male vs. female ways of dealing with things, stand between us. Russ tends to want to internalize everything while I feel better getting them out in the open and talking about them. As long as it doesn't make him combust or eat away at him, I don't push him for anything more than what he wants to deal with. And in return, he promises that he will try not to shut me out, to close himself off from me. And we both vow not to run from each other anymore. Some of the most heartfelt, intimate discussions come late at night, as we lie awake in bed. Other times we talk to his parents; they're great listeners, and, as he jokes, cheaper than going to therapy...although we still try to do that when we feel things are beyond our control, too. Things still aren't perfect, but the great part about that is now we realize they will never be, and we just try to make them as good as we possibly can. Russ and I simply take each day as it comes, and things are definitely brighter.

He takes me to Sydney for just a few weeks while they wrap up recording. Then, he's told me, he plans to take an indefinite amount of time off while we prepare for the baby's birth. He had cancelled most all of his commitments when I had the miscarriage anyway, and I'm looking forward to some quiet time at home, with no outside pressures and none of the hassles that come with his celebrity. Just us...our little family...for I know that even though the baby isn't here yet, Russell and I, we're still a family, the two of us as we are.

I'm in the third month of the pregnancy now, and today, here in Sydney, we're going to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time. This will make everything all the more real for us. We still haven't made news of it public yet, which is so hard, especially for him. He's so damn proud that I know he wants to shout it from the rooftops, but we're trying to hold on for at least one more month before spilling the beans. By then, we'll be safely ensconced back at the farm and all will be well.

In the next little while the baby will really begin to show, but right now it merely looks like I've gained a bit of weight, got just a bit thicker round the middle. I'm very protective of that miniscule sweet bulge, though, he nearly more so, as I lie there and he sits beside me, our fingers entwined as we wait for the doctor. This brings back stifling déjà vu memories of the last time we were like this, when the news was bleak and our outlook on things even bleaker. I know Russell senses this; he tries to be soothing as he rubs slow, light circles around my bare tummy with his free hand, not letting go of mine with the other.

The doctor finally comes in, sets up the equipment, and after just a brief moment of searching, we hear the rhythmic swishing sound of our child's tiny heart beating. It's the only sound in the room for long moments as neither of us dares to speak. My eyes close, tears seeping out of the corners as I lie there, listening to the sound of life, my own heart beating in time with that of the little one I'm carrying.

And then I feel Russ, his kiss gentle against my temple, and my eyes blink open to look into his. His eyes are shiny bright, and he's smiling. It's the most beautiful, most welcome sight in the world to me right now.

I feel it within me before the doctor even says it aloud: "Everything's all right." 

"Everything's going to be all right, Lissy." 

He says that as we're getting ready for bed that night, in our spacious Sydney apartment. I look at him; see the absolute joy gleaming in his beautiful, wondrous eyes and it makes me smile. "I think it will be," I respond softly, as I just stand there and watch him.

"I can't believe we could hear the heartbeat, at this early...can you imagine?" I have to laugh. "Yeah, I was there, remember?" I tease, as I begin to undress. He's already stripped naked and is reclining in bed, waiting for me...I shouldn't want him as much as I do, but I chalk it up to the increase in my hormones and the crazy way they're probably zinging all over the place due to the baby.

"It's what now? As big as my hand?" He holds up one, examines it, tries to imagine. I try not to imagine what those large, capable hands feel like on my body, not sure if he wants this as much as I do. "It's...no...Only as big as one of my fingers, probably. We read that in the baby book, remember?" I turn away briefly, reach for his flannie...am about to draw it over my head when he says very quietly, "Leave it. Please?"

I turn back to look at him. The shirt slips from my fingers and hits the floor. The soft light in his expression earlier is now replaced by a more intense, burning heat that I instantly recognize, and my knees grow weak.

"Just let me look at you, sweetheart..." His gaze travels over me...he can never get enough of that, it seems. "Christ, you are so beautiful." He holds his hand out to me, temptation personified. "Come here, love."

I do, straddling his lap, as he pulls back the covers, so I can feel him, so hot and so hungry, against my wet center. He places both palms flat against the small round curve of my belly, his eyes gazing deeply into mine, and then he slides them around and up my back, gently grabbing fistfuls of my dark, now shoulder-length hair---I started growing it out again, but might cut it short once more after the baby---and kisses me tenderly. I rock against him, moaning softly, pleading for him, and he kisses me more fervently, his mouth devouring mine, even as he remains as gentle as he possibly can. But right now, I don't want or need gentle...I want to take all that he can give me. When I whisper that to him, he at first looks surprised, and then very, very pleased.

"The books don't say anything about how....eager you'd be," he teases, even as he lifts me over him and I take him inside of me, panting just a little, my head thrown back at the wonderful sensation of him filling me so fully. I begin moving then, my hips writhing eagerly against him.

"You...were never...one...to go by...the books...follow...the rules...." I gasp out. He has to chuckle at this, and then he surprises me this time, by carefully lowering me back, him still firmly, deeply embedded within me, following over on top but keeping his weight mostly off of me. My legs are widespread, on either side of him, as he rises up nearly on his knees and begins thrusting a bit more strongly. "Ohh...god..."

"Let go, Lissy...just let go..." he growls out, and then I can feel him coming in a furious rush, flooding me, as I cry out and let my own climax rip through my body. He makes sure he moves to my side but hugs me close as the last of the tremors vibrate through me. We're now facing the foot of the bed, but when he tries to get me to budge; I make a small protesting sound and just snuggle into him.

"Liss...you'd be more comfortable turned right way round," he teases, and then after a moment, the two of us crawl back the other way and cuddle back together, under the covers this time. "You're going to kill me," he grumbles good-naturedly.

I jab him in the ribs with a fingertip. "This is how we got into trouble in the first place," I remind him. 

"Good, good kinda trouble." He's drawing those lazy, sweet circles around my tummy again, even now so protective and possessive of his child. OUR child, I remind myself, happy and content.

"We're not going to be able to do it like that in a little bit." I sigh, covering his fingers with mine as I always do. 

"We'll just have to get more inventive, then." He grins and I don't wonder for a moment that he'll keep that promise. "I've got moves the likes of which you've never seen."

"I highly doubt that," I retort dryly, which makes him laugh even more. That's another thing I no longer take for granted, because we struggled for so long to find it again: laughter. And love. All the love we can give each other. He knows this, too, because the look on his face grows very indulgent and tender and he kisses me with care. "I love you, Liss."

"We love you, too," I answer, and his expression grows even more touched as he slides low to talk directly to my belly. "Love you, little one." 

I ruffle his hair, smile as he rubs his bearded cheek against the small swell there, and then he comes back up and kisses me again, hugging us to him as we both fall asleep.

The band wraps up the Sydney project and we head back to the farm. By this time, rumors have begun to run rampant through the press...several ill-timed photos of us looking at baby items and me finally starting to show in earnest have made the rounds. We make the news official just as we return home. As I joke to Russ, if they were to be believed, I've been pregnant for a long, long time now...almost from the moment I met him...but he doesn't find that particularly amusing. He's increasingly protective of our privacy, concerned for our safety and security...I suspect that if it were possible, he'd spirit me away to a remote island for the duration of the pregnancy and the baby's growing up years. But it's sweet and it's just him being him, something I know and am used to. Also the fascination the media has with him, with us, now that I'm a part of his life, too, and soon to be this child, all of that won't go away, and we both know that we just have to deal with it as best as we can.

Almost overnight the baby made my body blossom. I seemed to wake one morning and my tummy went from just a scarcely noticeable roundness to looking like I swallowed a beach ball whole. Russ and everyone around me claims it's still not too prominent, but with all the topsy-turvy changes going throughout, I feel like it's some sort of immense growth within me. But I love it and cherish it with all of my heart.

My husband is totally fascinated with my new figure; he loves marveling at how the baby's growing and seeing the changes that his body's made within mine. He loves touching my newly rounded stomach, imagining what the baby's doing at that moment in time. This child's already changed my own life completely; but when I observe what he or she is doing to and for Russell, it nearly moves me to tears. There's this solid sense of peace within him that I've prayed for so long he'd find. The baby was only the catalyst; but I realize my own role in helping him heal, and I'm so proud and pleased about that.

I feel wonderfully healthy and strong, both physically and emotionally, with this one. I don't really have anything to compare this pregnancy to; since the first one was so brief and I didn't even know I was pregnant to begin with; but I somehow have this instinctual serenity that all will be fine this time round. When I pause and think about the big picture; first the entire labor and giving birth thing and then actually being someone's mum and raising this little one, it's somewhat scary. But as Russell teases, if every potential set of parents really thought about it, the human race probably would've died out a long time ago, so the best thing is for us to just jump right in and go for it.

We rejoice after we move past the first trimester because we're past the riskiest part of it and we can really concentrate on our excitement now. The two of us read together every book known to man about pregnancy and childbirth---I should have known that Russell's extensive, thorough research that he does for his acting roles would carry over into his real life as well---and we pretty much know from week to week what's going on with the baby and my body. We do start planning; one of the sticking points is where the child will be born. I don't mind having it here in Australia; he promised to fly my mother and anyone else I wanted over here in plenty of time, and I know how much he wants his family involved, as well. For privacy and security, more for his sake than mine, I mentioned having it here at home, on the farm; but he quickly and adamantly nixed that idea. We finally agreed to the nearby hospital, with both my local doctor and our one from Sydney attending, if we can get him here in enough time.

Russ is wonderful, as I knew he would be. We haven't yet felt the baby move, although I've experienced a tiny flutter now and again; but he constantly talks to the child in my womb, sings to it, his head resting against my belly, and it's these moments of incredible sharing and closeness that I feel the bonds really starting to grow between him and this baby. He plans to be there for every moment of the birth; my doctor has even mentioned he can assist in the delivery, if he feels confident enough; and you should have seen him strut around all proud at the idea of that one. He's preparing for the ultimate role of a lifetime with the arrival of this coming child, and it touches me and fills me with such love to watch him.

Since I'm still considered a risky case worth observing closely, we had some tests run a short while ago, and we're getting the results of that with the doctor's visit tomorrow, as well as an ultrasound where we can clearly see our baby for the very first time. AND, the pinnacle of all excitement: We are hoping to find out whether we are having a boy or a girl. I just want a healthy baby; Russell, when pressed, won't say either way. I know that probably every man would like to have a son; but I can imagine him with a daughter as well. He's wanted a child for so long in his life, as have I; and I feel so blessed and so thankful that we're giving that to each other.

I'm not thinking of anything really except relaxing, though, this evening, as I finish removing my clothes---pausing for a moment to gaze at my changing body in the big bathroom mirror---and then carefully climb, just a tad awkwardly, into the huge, sunken tub, settling into the warm, soothing water with a blissful sigh.

My eyes only open when I hear the door open with a quiet click and see Russ peeking around the edge of it. "There you are." He comes in and closes it behind him, leans against the sink looking at my ample curves with both paternal pride and masculine appreciation. "Didn't you hear me call you?"

I shake my head. He smiles and has to shake his head, too. "That goes without saying." 

Ruefully, pouring water from my cupped hand over my ballooning belly, I give it a pat and look at him, saying, "I guess pretty soon baths will be out of the question."

"Why?" 

"It's getting harder and harder to get myself in and out of here." 

He's already reaching for the buttons on his shirt as he says casually, "Then I'll just have to help you, won't I?" 

My eyes widen as he makes quick work of his own clothing, standing there big and bold and undeniably very handsomely male. Coming to the tub, he steps in, gently nudging me with his foot. "Scoot over."

I slide forward just enough so he can settle in behind me, curling both arms around me and pulling me back into him so I'm resting against his warm, solid chest, my head drooping against his shoulder. "What are you doing?" I ask, very unnecessarily, as he takes the sponge that's floating on the surface of the water and squeezes it over my front, observing the water sliding in a delicate stream over my breasts.

He nuzzles the side of my neck, making me shiver, despite the warmth of the water. "Washing your back." 

"Oh, ho...I don't think so." But I smile as he soaps up one hand and rubs the lather across the span of my tummy, over the baby. 

Now he kisses the curve of my shoulder. "I'll be getting there eventually." 

"Mmmhmm..." I let my eyes slide shut again as he takes his time, bathing me with exquisite care, very slowly. Then I hear, husky and low in my ear, "Liss? You're not asleep?"

"No." It's amazing how incredibly sensuous I feel at this stage, my lush, ripe curves making me feel especially feminine and like a glorious, sexual creature. Stretching, I can feel the hard press of his arousal into my bottom and can't resist giving a teasing wiggle against it. He growls and his hold on me tightens. I turn just enough to brush a kiss against his furry jaw and whisper, "I'm VERY aware you're still here."

"And I'm very aware of you, too." He finds my mouth with his and then, after a moment, suggests, "Can we maybe get out of here, though? I'm shriveling up."

He stands and helps me to my feet. Looking at him from head to toe, I gently cradle him, thick and solid, my fingers stroking, and murmur, "Doesn't look like it to me."

"Lissy..." Helping me out of the tub, he wraps a big, plush towel around me and grabs one for himself. 

"Hey, mister, you made me this way." 

He dries himself off, runs a loving hand over my round middle and says smugly, "Yep." 

"Well, besides that...you made me a wanton sex goddess, you know." 

Looking even more pleased with himself, he replies, "Oh, that." 

"Yeah, 'Ohhh...that...'" I tease him. Before I can say anything more, he plucks the bottle of my favorite lotion off the countertop and swings me up in his arms. "I'm too big for this!" I protest, hanging on for dear life, as he carries me off to the bedroom.

"No...You're gorgeous." He deposits me on the middle of our bed, as light and airy as a feather, then, as I turn over on my side, he lies beside me, facing me. "You're absolutely perfect." I watch as he squeezes a bit of lotion into his hands, rubbing it around, and then he begins massaging it into my front. "Mmm..." I give a small, satisfied purr, and he chuckles, then leans in close and murmurs, "Just let me take care of you, sweetheart."

I let him, my eyes once again closing with bliss as he strokes all over, only opening them to look at him when he plants a tender kiss on my belly. "Hello, there, baby." He smiles up into my face and says, "We're gonna find out tomorrow."

"Are you nervous?"

"No." Then he has to confess, "A little." 

"Me, too." I have to admit, "More excited than anything, though." 

"Yeah." 

"What do you want, Russell?" I'm meaning a boy or a girl, but he kisses me and simply whispers, "You." 

"No, I mean..." 

His big hands close in on what's left of my waist and he repeats, "Right here, right now...just you. Turn over, Lissy." 

I do, obediently, and then I feel the coolness of lotion on my back and shoulders. His palms leave there, slide down to cradle the life inside of me, then dip lower to stroke between my legs. I gasp and I sigh, and it turns into a soft cry as he slides his fingers through my creamy wet heat, and then without warning, he slips into me from behind, a slow, caressing, easy glide. One of his hands cups my breasts, teasing and plucking at their sensitive fullness as the other first rubs lazily over the place where our baby is, then down below again to rub and play, as he moves in a barely undulating but deeply penetrating rhythm against me. My body's so acutely attuned to his that it doesn't take much to make me come; shuddering and crying his name, and then I experience his climax, pouring himself into me with a low groan, his body heaving into mine.

We're lying like that, spooning and silent, peaceful and sated, for long moments. Then I remind him, teasingly, "You never answered my question."

"What question was that, sweetheart?" 

"Whether you wanted a boy or a girl."

"I'm happy with either, love, as long as everything turns out okay and the baby's healthy. What about you?"

"I feel the same." There's another bit of quiet, and then I say mischievously, "Hey, I figure you're gonna be screwed either way."

"Why's that?" I wriggle back over to face him and he has to smile at the bulk of baby in between us.

"Well..." my eyes are sparkling, "...I figure, if we have a little boy, then you'll get to see firsthand the kind of headaches you and your brother probably put your parents through."

He laughs and then asks, "And if we have a little girl?"

"Why, then...you get to see the kind of headaches you and your brother probably put other little girls' parents through when you were younger." 

He just looks at me and then I giggle, and he has to laugh again. "I imagine I probably deserve it." 

I shake my head, reaching out to cradle his face, and look him right in the eyes. "You deserve to be happy, Russell. That's all. To be happy and be loved, and have a family that loves you. And we..." leaning into him just enough to be able to kiss him, my stomach presses into his, reminding him of the baby's presence, too, "...we'll take care of that for you."

"Well, I'll take care of the both of you." He leans in, kisses my forehead, and then smoothes his hand over my bottom. "Turn back over, angel."

"Why? Does the sight of my big, fat belly repulse you?" But I scoot and squirm until we're back the way we were, with me nestled into him, his arms around me and his hands resting snugly against the mound of the baby.

"No...And I think what just happened between us should make THAT quite obvious...but I can hold you two better this way." He then says softly, "I feel like such a fucking inconsiderate beast, ravishing you like that."

"Honey..." I pat his hand. "The 'ravishee' WANTED to be ravished, remember? Anyway, we've got to get all of this out of our systems...in a little bit, I'll be bigger than a house and we'll have to go into celibacy for a few months." He gives a loud, exaggerated groan, and I laugh. "You'll just have to make do with cuddling and snuggling."

"I'm good at cuddling and snuggling."

I nod, drowsily. "Yeah, you are, babe." 

"I'm also good at other things." He snickers and I sigh. "I think THIS should make that quite obvious," I tell him, as we both pat my swollen tummy. He sighs, too---a sound of happy sleepiness---and has to agree.

The last thing he tells me before I fall asleep is, "We'll know for sure tomorrow."

Tomorrow...we'll officially meet our child for the very first time. 

The next day, as we wait at the doctor's, I think we both really are more excited than nervous. However, Russ has one of those personalities that make him a little hyped up when he's anxious; his pacing about finally got to me and I told him to either go outside or just sit still and hold my hand. Wisely, he chose the latter. I'm hoping he'll be able to contain himself when we finally do go to have the baby. Still, it makes me laugh. He's been so sweet and caring and fun throughout this so far, and I truly love him for it.

Finally the doctor comes in, setting up the equipment for the ultrasound. This is week twenty; smack dab halfway through the pregnancy. He asks a bunch of questions about my health and what we're experiencing thus far; then tells us the words we have been waiting to hear.

"The test results came back; everything looks to be going well, normal and fine." The two of us look at each other with relief. "Shall we have a look at this baby now and see what's going on in there?"

As they're preparing me for the sonogram, Russell can't help but ask, "The tests show what it is, right?"

The doctor smiles. "I take it you both want to know?" When we agree, he says, "Yes. We know what you're having...let's have a look here first and then I'll tell you."

He turns on the monitor, moves around on my belly a bit, and then suddenly, the image jumps to life on the screen. We can clearly see the child for the very first time. Little arms and legs waving and moving, the face with its nearly ghostlike tiny features starting to develop. We can even make out the dark mass of its small heart beating within its own fragile body. Before, when pregnant girlfriends would show me stills or video of their ultrasounds, they would point out various things and I'd pretend they were clearly visible, but secretly inside, wonder how they could make out anything. Not with our baby, though. The doctor points to various parts, describing what we're supposed to be looking at, but almost without thinking about it, the two of us begin pointing things out to one another, and eventually the doctor is silent, smiling as he watches us look at our child with wonder. The look on Russell's face is precious. He's in awe of this entire thing, one hand firmly gripping mine while he reaches across to touch the screen with the other, his finger tracing the image there, over and over. He's not saying too much right now, but I wonder at all the thoughts that I know must be swirling through his mind.

The doctor interrupts our reverie. "Would you like to know what it is you're having?"

"Yes," I whisper, reaching out to stroke Russ' face. He nods, his gaze meeting mine and holding as the doctor says the next words we've wanted to hear. 

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

I immediately begin to cry. Russ tears up, too, but they're happy tears and we couldn't be more pleased. We look back at the image of our daughter, there on the screen.

Russell presses his hand to the glass, over her tiny beating heart. "Hi there, baby girl," he says, his voice rough with emotion. I just smile and watch him, loving both of them with all I have within me.

"We're having a girl!" 

The two of us are back home, after going on a clandestine shopping trip after leaving the doctor's. This close to home, people are actually very considerate of our privacy; although we're aware this latest news might somehow leak out, the salespeople at the baby shop we went to were very helpful and promised to be very discreet. Of course, we spent an inordinate amount of money on bags of things, which I'm sure didn't hurt. Now that we know, plans are underway to begin work on the nursery and I'm glad we can start to prepare in greater detail. Russell is actually downright nearly giddy with his excitement, and I just let him go---we've had such a hard time of it before that looking forward to the future feels so good. I am so glad to finally see him happy, so glad to feel that myself.

We're sprawled on our bed, me resting in the shelter of his body, propped up against pillows as we survey all the damage we did this afternoon. Blankets, layette, tiny clothes, primarily in pink, but in nearly every other pastel hue as well, are draped everywhere. If I so much as paused to look at it, I swear to God, Russell bought it.

I have to laugh at it all. "I know...I was there too, remember?" I can't help but tease him again. 

He picks up a ridiculously small, lacy, beribboned, flowery dress; which looks a bit incongruous in his large, manly hands, and then lays it over my swelling tummy. I can't wait to see him once she arrives. He's really going to be a spectacular father; and she will definitely be a Daddy's girl. I love it; love the idea of Russell having a daughter. Despite his so-called 'reputation', he's inherently quite sensitive and has a great capacity for love and tenderness. I can't wait to see how this little girl wraps him around her finger, as I know she will. As I'm sure she already has.

"I'm glad everything's all right."

"Me, too."

"Did I tell you how very much I love both of you, Lissy?"

"At least a million times per day...but we don't get tired of hearing it." We both place our hands, palms flat and fingers widespread, on either side of my belly, against affectionately known Baby Girl Crowe. I keep telling him we're going to have to come up with a name to call her by because that's quite a mouthful. We've both decided to choose a bunch of names and then wait until she's born to decide what she seems to fit into; but now that we know for certain, we've got to call her something besides that while we wait. Until we come up with something more imaginative, though, Baby Girl Crowe it is.

I lay the tiny new dress we bought for her off to the side and stroke the curve of her; and that's when we feel it for the first time. She's undeniably tossing and turning within my womb; I can definitely feel her now, there's no mistaking it this time; and I can tell by the quiet, immediate way Russell freezes behind me that he felt it, too.

"Oh my god," he breathes in my ear, as we wait, and then it comes again. I imagine her, stretching her little arms and legs, either just waking up from a nap or settling back into sleep. "Did you feel...?"

"She..."

"Shh..." he says, as if our silence will make it easier to feel her move. But we sit there, feeling the ripples of motion, absolutely floored by it, until she settles and is still once more.

Neither of us says anything. Russ rests his face against my shoulder; I know he's crying, just a little, because I can feel the wetness of his tears soaking through my shirt on my skin. I'm crying, too, at the beauty of it, realizing that she's alive and well and wanting us to know she's here. There are really no words to describe what I'm sure we're both experiencing. I'm sure he is feeling a lot of things he'd like to say aloud but somehow can't; it's the way he is, but he's not shutting me out now, we're simply both overwhelmed with all the emotions of today. I know what's in his heart, though.

We just hold onto each other for a long time, absorbing all that we've discovered and all we've gained. Then, by unspoken mutual agreement, we slowly, tenderly make love, very aware of the baby, reminded that she was conceived in our love, exactly like this, and that she's precious and cherished and so welcome in our family circle.

After that, it all REALLY starts to become more real, since the baby has a definite identity and we've finally been able to feel her move. Russell and I begin to plan a trip to the States, before I'm too advanced in the pregnancy to travel, to see my family and friends. We start to choose furniture and décor for the nursery, here, and at our home in America, and in Sydney, something we never thought about until we began just the plans for this home, of course. He wants something special for her everywhere we'd go, which amuses and touches me at the same time. We want to finish off the American nursery by the time we get there, spend a day or two working on the Sydney one on our way back, and then settle in here for the duration and wait for our daughter to arrive. This is a logistical quandary that Russ tackles with zest---after we choose colors and things, he organizes them to start to be sent where they need to go; friends and family are going to do the painting and papering we've chosen before we get there, and we just have to worry about the small stuff. This child is lucky; she's already his little princess and nothing's too much for Baby Girl Crowe. I don't want him to spoil her, though, something he's promised to try to restrain himself in. But he's got a big, big heart and a lot of love to give this tiny girl, even though she's not here yet.

We start calling her our Angel Baby, which gets shortened to Angel. Everyone thinks we're a bit mental, but while we wait to see her and decide what she'll go by the rest of her life, it seems to fit.

I keep telling myself it's now all downhill from here, but unfortunately, this downhill part is the most uncomfortable, the longest and hardest, it seems. My middle appears to be growing more and more rapidly: on a daily, almost hourly basis, even, it feels like I'm expanding noticeably. I get tired much more easily; have to take naps like a small child every afternoon.

We take our trip to the States a few short weeks after finding out the baby's gender. It's good to see everyone I love; I do get homesick every so often and I look forward to having some of them come over and be there when I'm about to give birth. Here, too, I appreciate the fact that everything's so normal; we're just a regular, expectant couple preparing to welcome their first child into the world. Russ has tried, so hard, to keep things on an even keel throughout this whole thing. It's not easy, when you have to worry about security when you go out in public and paparazzi and crazy things like that. But he's tried to shield me from most of it, as much as he can. I know it bothers him sometimes, what his celebrity does to those he cares about, yet, at the same time, the fame brings a lot of exciting things and a lot of opportunities as well. Over here, he's just simply Russell, my husband, the other part of it rarely creeps into anything, and I think he likes it that way.

So we have barbeques and parties, a couple of baby showers, finish off the American nursery, although it might be a little bit after Angel arrives before we can bring her here. Family and friends pitched in to help and it's a lovely room waiting for her, done in a teddy bear theme in lavender and mint green and yellow. I'm starting to feel my nesting, motherly instincts and don't want to leave to go back to Australia, but eventually we head off, with promises that some of them will be coming to stay with us in a couple of months and get to see the baby.

We get to Sydney and finish off yet another room for Angel, this time in bright primaries. I have to laugh at the sight of some of Russell's mates trying to put together furniture. More time spent with friends here---how many expectant moms get a baby shower given for her by Nicole Kidman? ---and finally, into the seventh month of my pregnancy, he brings me home to stay while we await the birth of our daughter.

Her room here is the most sweet and pretty of all. It's all soft ivory and shades of pink. Russell insisted on it waiting for him to do most of the work on it himself, him and his brother, which I think is special and wonderful.

A really bad thing happens soon after we get back: I start to get restless, very irritable and uncomfortable. I know it's hormones, because really, I'm still eager for the birth, still love my unborn daughter and my husband to pieces, but anything and everything can set me off, either in tears or outbursts. And, unfortunately, I try incredibly hard not to take things out on the rest of the family, so Russell has to bear the brunt of it. He tries to be understanding, but a lot of times, after one of these fits, I glimpse his hurt or confusion and then I feel terrible and guilty. We always end up making up but it's been difficult for him, I'm sure. His wife's gone from this serene, tranquilly radiant Madonna figure to...well, being more like the OTHER Madonna: brassy, mouthy, unpredictable, and sometimes just plain rude. A pure diva, used to getting her own way.

One day I'm trying to sleep, my usual afternoon nap, when the guys are a couple rooms down putting furniture together in the almost finished nursery. And let me tell you, Russ and Terry are typical brothers, and also typical Crowes: both very opinionated, outspoken, and not above regressing to childhood bickering. I can clearly hear them discussing...loudly and boisterously...what part needs to attach to where, and frankly, I've had enough.

I get myself clumsily out of bed, waddle---there's no other term for it at this point---down the hall and stand in the doorway. "What in the hell do you two think you're doing?"

"We're trying to put together the damn fucking crib, that's what we're doing." They scowl at each other, typically both thinking they're right, and then Russell softens his tone. "We're trying to make sense of all of this mess, sweetheart. Why don't you go back to bed and relax?"

"I would..." I grind out from between clenched teeth, "if the two of you would KEEP IT DOWN, damn it." Angel kicks from within me, as if to emphasize my point: Yeah, let me and Mommy sleep. I rub her gently and glare at the both of them.

"What's wrong with you, Liss?" He looks incredibly frustrated right now, and I can't honestly say I blame him one bit. 

"She's pregnant, Russ. Lay off her, mate, all right?" Terry tries to patch things up but we're having none of it. 

"Good god, I know she's preggers, but that's no reason to become this psycho holy terror, now is it?" 

"I'm a WHAT?" 

"Lissy, I didn't mean that, all right? It's just...you need to take things easy, calm down. Now look, I'm sorry we're being loud but we're trying to get this ready for the baby, okay? How is Angel, by the way?" He comes to me and tries to put his hand on my swollen belly, but I back away. "Don't touch me."

"Oh, Christ, Lissy, don't start this fucking mess all over again." 

I know the baby can sense our tones because now she's moving like crazy, tiny limbs bumping against me in warning. "What mess might that be?" I ask haughtily, knowing this is getting out of hand but unable to stop myself.

"I can't deal with it, your mood swings and fits like this. I don't know what I've done, but..."

"Russ..." his brother warns. I snap, "Stay the hell out of this, Terry." He wisely throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender and promptly makes himself very busy tightening a bolt on one of the parts of the crib.

"You got me pregnant, that's what you've done!" In theory, this is a rather irrational, insane argument, but I can't suppress those raging hormones. "And so I think the least you can do now is try to give me a little bit of peace and quiet."

"Lissy..." He looks like he's at a cross between trying not to laugh and trying not to get all upset over something so stupid. 

"All I want is some peace! And I want someone to care about me for a change." Good grief, I'm really out of control now. 

"I DO care about you, love. Why do you think...?"

"No...I don't want to hear it. I don't. I just want to have her and be done with it all. And I want to go back to sleep, and I DON'T want to hear any more racket from you two." With those parting words, I turn, trying to maintain any semblance of dignity after that incredibly dumb outburst, and waddle back out to our bedroom. I can hear Terry urging, "Go after her, Russ," and then his deep voice saying something I can't hear clearly. I climb back into bed, trying in vain to hold back the other nasty side effect: uncontrollable tears---and wrap my arms around my middle, to reassure Angel everything's all right.

After a short while, I hear the bedroom door open but I ignore it, hoping if I pretend I finally fell asleep, he'll go away, because I'm too embarrassed and ashamed right now to face him. But he sits down on the edge of the bed, behind me, and then after another moment of hesitation, I feel the warm press of his body against my back, just like we sleep together every night, and his arms come around me, big hands curling over mine, over the baby.

"Good thing I'm the only actor in this family, love...I know you're faking it and you're not asleep," he says in my ear, and then he kisses right below it in a tender gesture.

"I...I'm sorry...so, so sorry..." I squeak out. He laughs gently. "No worries, Liss." 

"I AM a psycho holy terror...I don't know what's come over me." I sniffle. "Terry must think I'm a freak of nature or something."

"Hey, he's gone through it before, remember? I haven't, although I can't imagine it must be getting to be a hell of a lot of fun for you." He strokes over my belly and adds, "You're getting so damn big."

"Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out." Chuckling once more, he clarifies, "I'm not making fun or making light of it...I just know it can't be easy, carrying her around with you all the time, what with it getting closer to the birth and all..." I let out another gulping sob and he asks, very softly, "You're getting scared, aren't you?"

"Yes." He knows me too well for me to be able to lie about that. 

"So am I." You know, I've been so worried about what I'll be going through that I hadn't ever really looked at it from his point of view. "Do you know how helpless I'm gonna feel, watching you go through that, feeling that pain, and know I can't really do anything to take that away from you?"

I let out a shuddering breath and he carefully turns us over so he can see me, look right at me. "I felt that way when we lost the other baby, you know." 

"I know you did." I add, "I wanted so much to help you, but I couldn't do anything."

"I wish I could do more, Lissy. I wish I could take that from you. But I can't...the only thing I can do is be here for you. And try to love you through it."

I nod. Then he says, his hand still rubbing slow circles over my stomach, "And we're going to get something so good out of it in the end." 

As if in agreement, Angel wiggles inside of me once more and we both laugh. "She's probably getting so cramped in there," Russell comments. I'm getting to the point that sometimes, when she's really vigorous, you can actually see her movements from the outside.

"Yeah, she's going to be glad to come out of here." 

"We'll be glad to have her." 

I sigh as the baby quiets down again. Then I apologize a second time, "I'm really sorry for my fits and rages and all the tears. I try to control them, but..."

"Don't have to explain anything to me, sweetheart. I read the books too, remember? They warned against something like this...although they had no idea just how disagreeable one woman could become..." I slug his shoulder and he grins. "Listen, why don't you take your little rest...we're gonna hold off finishing the crib and the rest of it...I think after you're up, my mum wants to take you out for a bit, and we'll work on it then, while you're gone? And hopefully have everything all done by the time you get back."

"IF the two of you don't kill each other first." 

 He laughs. "Now THERE'S a real disagreeable one, my brother." 

I smile. "I think it's a tossup, myself." 

We kiss and then he offers, "Want me to stay for awhile? Till you fall asleep?" 

I can't think of anything right at this moment I'd like more. 

I have a nice nap, after which I go out for a bit with Chelsea and Jocelyn, we do a little more shopping for the baby, and then come home. Russell's waiting and looks like an eager child at Christmastime. "We're finished. Want to see?"

Of course we do so he leads the way, my hand in his, the entire family trailing after. He opens the nursery door and turns on the light, brings me into the room, the rest of the family hanging back in the doorway to take a peek.

It's beautiful. The furniture is completed, set exactly where we'd decided, all light wood to go with the muted ivories and rose mauves we picked out for colors. It's perfect, feminine without being fussy, still with lacy accents and floral patterns, sweet for a newborn baby but appropriate for a growing little girl as well. Stuffed animals---contributions from every single person in this room---fill the crib but will have to move once the baby arrives. All the basic supplies are in their proper place, all the clothes hanging on miniscule hangers in the wardrobe...it's perfect. "I love it," I breathe, kissing him, and then my brother-in-law, and then the family spills into the nursery, exclaiming over every little thing, every precious detail.

Russ' dad says it first. "Now all we need is the baby." 

And then this marvelous room will truly be complete. 

After the atomic meltdown of the century, I begin to try to relax, keeping my fluctuating emotions in check, and the pregnancy moves on. Now that the final nursery is complete, and we have everything the baby could want or need for at least the first year of her life---I'm not exaggerating, we finally had to stop because there's only so much we could buy for her and with all the clothes we have for her now, I'll be changing her at least four times a day so she gets wear out of them anyhow---all we can do is wait. Try to gear up for the unknown. Cause I realize all the reading we can do isn't going to really prepare us for the real thing.

We have a unique situation in that besides the regular, now more frequent checkups, my doctor suggests prenatal classes to help us better understand what we should expect. But when the baby's father is one of the most recognized celebrities in the world, you can't very well just walk into a hospital, plop yourselves down in class, and expect things to be all neat and normal. So we are able to have an instructor come into our home and teach the classes that way. It's actually nicer because then she can concentrate on just the two of us and we can feel free to discuss whatever we want and I really think we get more out of it like this. I'm sure any tabloid in the world would pay good money to see Russ, this great hulking bear of a man, sitting on the floor practicing breathing techniques and practicing how to bathe and diaper a doll, but that's never going to happen. Too bad for them; because it's a rather touching sight to see.

The obstetrician also mentioned that if all goes well with labor, and the delivery appears to be going smoothly, Russell can actually help deliver the baby. The doctor will make sure her head and shoulders are out, she's breathing and there are no problems; and if that's the case, then he can be the one to catch her the rest of the way and lift her out of me. He is very excited about this idea and takes it very seriously. At first he was torn between the chance to do this and being there to support me, but I think it's a beautiful, amazing thing and an incredible responsibility for him, to welcome her into the world. So I don't mind, we've talked in depth about it, and I would love him to be able to do that. He'll be the one to hand her to me, and I grow misty-eyed at this thought.

My family arrives just a week before the due date, and then things really kick into high gear. By this time, I feel positively huge...although everyone keeps telling me I don't look all that particularly large, I'm not buying that. It's getting hard to move easily about; I live for Russell to rub my swollen ankles and give me massages at night. Though he doesn't admit to it, I know he's getting nervous. Having a child is a big, life-altering event, and we're both well aware things will never be the same again. But in a good way.

I'm in the large-as-a-house, uncomfortable phase of my pregnancy now. I feel worse for our daughter, because she's probably all cramped into a tight little knot within me, I can feel how little room she has to move around anymore, but I feel positively clumsy within my own body myself. I've long since given up attempting to bend over for anything; I go around the house either barefoot or in slip-on shoes to avoid the embarrassment of having to have Russell or someone help me. I've also come to realize if I have to move from Point A to Point B, I'm just going to get there when I get there. I feel like a circus elephant when I walk, lumbering along in my shuffling, swaying way. I'm well past the wonder and awe of this and all I want is to have my baby.

The due date comes and goes, although I've been having those little false labor pains for some time now. I'm getting really tired of carrying Angel around, as much as I love her, and I just want her to get here.

I'm so disappointed the night of the due date, when I realize that now I'm officially overdue. I've heard people can go for a week or more over; sometimes even have to be induced, and that thought just fills me with dread. I really don't want to take much more of this, much as I love Angel.

I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, Russ kneeling on it behind me, gently pressing his fist into my lower back. We've found that usually helps to ease the aches and pains. He runs his knuckles up and down my spine and I moan.

He pauses, concerned. "Did I hurt you?"

"God, no." I sigh. Angel attempts to move but gives up for lack of space; I almost imagine her sighing there within me, too. "It feels wonderful. Please don't stop."

He kisses my nape. "It'll be soon, Liss, I promise."

I look back over my shoulder at him. "I hope you're right." Sooner, rather than later, I'd prefer.

Two days after the due date passes, I wake up feeling funny. Not sick funny, just different. And somehow I know this is the day. Before I even make it out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth and combing my hair, a real pain seizes me and I have to stop for a minute and catch my breath. I don't want to freak anyone out, Russ isn't here, I assume he's somewhere in the house though---please God, please---so I wait, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching the clock. After about ten minutes, another one, this one as strong as the first, and then I wait another ten, just to make sure. My body doesn't disappoint; the pain comes right on time, and I go off in search of Russell.

He's in the kitchen talking to his mother. He smiles and asks, "How are you feeling today, love?" and then his expression changes when he sees the look on my face. "Now??"

"Not right here on the kitchen table...but I think this is really it this time." I sink gratefully into the chair he pulls out for me and look up at him. "Ten minutes."

"The baby's coming in ten minutes?" I'd laugh at his crazy panic if I didn't feel another pain just then. "No...Oh, wow...the contractions are ten minutes apart."

"Let's get you to the hospital." I'm not really aware of how we get there, the family running around trying to get things organized, all I'm aware of is Russell, who hangs on to me the entire trip there.

We planned this so meticulously, but all of that seems to go out the window with the excitement of it all. Fortunately, everyone else sticks to their part and gets it all ready for us.

I get changed into one of those horrid gowns, hooked up to monitors, checked out, scrutinized, both of us asking and getting asked questions...and then, for a blessed few moments, it's just the two of us.

"I love you, Lissy," he tells me quietly, bending over to kiss me softly.

"I love you." 

"It's going to be all right." 

"I know." I look solemnly at him, holding onto his hand. "Because you're here." 

"I just hope," he says, smiling down at me, "that it doesn't take too damn long."

It's actually not as long as I feared. The pains get worse and closer together...but Russ is there for me, holding my hand in his and letting me grip it as tight as I need to...and then I get my epidural and once that kicks in, I feel much more comfortable. So much so that I'm surprised when I get examined and they tell me I can start getting ready to push the baby out. It's been about six hours since we got here, much quicker than most first births, they tell me, which is good, because I'm dying to get this baby here and hold her for the first time.

Russell's down by my feet, ready to do his part. He's stroking my leg, looking into my eyes, when I begin. I feel a lot of pressure, the nurses and doctors telling me how well that went...and then I breathe and wait for the next wave to start up again.

"Liss..." I focus on him and see the tears in his eyes. "I can see the top of her head." A chorus of encouraging voices, the doctors and nurses, chime in. 

"Come on, you can do it..."

"That's good, a little more..."

"Oh, god, Lissy, I can see her...come on, sweetheart, you're doing great..." I feel a big rush of pressure and then, "Her head's out." The doctor begins suctioning out her nose and mouth, I can see the top of her head when I rest my chin on my chest to give another push, and she's got a full head of dark hair, and then, "Wait. Cord's around her neck. Don't push for a moment."

There's a moment of panic but Russell fixes his gaze on me, silently offering his strength, and then the doctor says to him, "We're almost there. Ready?"

"Yeah...I can...?" He moves in there, and I can't resist teasing breathlessly, "Please, don't drop her." 

"I won't, Liss, promise." He's smiling but there are tears in his eyes as he asks, "Ready?"

"Yeah." Despite how exhausted I am, I smile back at him. 

"That's my girl." I push again, then the doctor moves away slightly, and tells my husband, "There you go...hold on to her...don't pull, let Lisa get her out..." And then the baby slips right out, into her father's waiting hands.

He's crying, I'm crying, as he places her carefully on my stomach, the nurses move in to help wipe her off, and then it's the most beautiful sound in the world when she lets out a small cry, which grows in intensity as she realizes she's free. She's beautiful, absolutely perfect. Smaller than I thought, considering I've been lugging her around for months now. A lot of dark hair, and big, gorgeous dark brown eyes...I touch her, hold her to me, as Russ moves over right beside me after cutting the cord and hugs both of us. She's her own small person now, no longer a part of me physically. And she's changed both of us: we're now suddenly parents and responsible for her.

She's so sweet. "Hi, baby," I tell her, and she stops crying as she hears my voice and comes to figure out she's safe. 

"Angel..." She turns her head slightly at the sound of Russell's voice and I smile. "She definitely knows us." 

"Got to take her for just a bit." One of the nurses lifts her from me, as she flails her tiny arms and legs, beginning to fret a little as she discovers she's leaving us. "You can come over here and watch," she tells Russ.

I can see he's torn once again between me and her. I know I've got him for keeps; he's got a brand new beginning with her. "Go with her, honey," I tell him, and he kisses me before going over to watch her be weighed, measured and checked out. I'm tired but happy as I lie there, listening to my daughter's squeaks at being touched by strange hands and the deeper tones of her daddy speaking to her. It's just murmuring; I don't know what he's telling her but it must be something good because she's calmer now. Another one of the nurses, at our request, is taking photos...Baby Girl Crowe's first paparazzi...and then the one taking care of the baby announces her weight and length. She's a dainty six pounds, nine ounces and nineteen inches long.

They've got her cleaned and dressed in a teensy gown and cap, all swaddled snugly in a blanket...and then they give her back to Russell so he can bring her back over to me. I cry fresh tears as I watch him, big and bold and strong, carrying such a delicate little scrap of a baby girl. She's quiet and he pauses to gaze down at her, and then I see he's crying again too.

"She looked right at me, Lissy," he explains, as he comes to sit beside the bed and lays her gently in my arms. "Just looked right into my eyes, as if she knew exactly who I was. It's the most amazing thing."

"It is." She's now looking at me that way, too, alert and bright-eyed for being so new. "And of course she knows who you are. You're her daddy." 

"Yeah, I am." We both stare raptly at her, the tiny rosebud mouth and the soft baby cheeks; pull the blanket back so we can count her fingers and toes. He leans over to kiss her and then he kisses me, too. "You were incredible. You had a strength in you I didn't know you had."

"I have you to thank for that." We suddenly realize that, with the exception of the doctor conferring with one of the nurses, we're mostly alone, the three of us. Then those two congratulate us quietly before slipping out.

"Who told everyone?" I want to know. He smiles. "They're going to kill me...I had one of those nurses do it. I wanted us to have some time together before they all come in here. So we've got just a bit before the great family invasion."

I look at the baby, who's now nearly asleep, exhausted from her ordeal of arriving here. "We can't keep calling her Angel, Russ." 

"Sure we can. Can't we, little one?" He kisses her again and she peeks open a dark eye before closing it again. "She is one, you know."

"Yes, she is...but we've got to name her so we can introduce her properly to everyone." We remember our vow to see her first before choosing what to call her. Both of us look at her, peacefully sleeping in my arms. She looks so lovely, none of that newborn red, wrinkly look about her. Then I say, "I liked the first one we came up with."

He laughs. "That's what I was going to say." 

We pause and watch her, just watch her some more, something I get the feeling we're going to be doing an awful lot of. Then there's a knock and Russ' parents peer around the edge of the door, followed closely by my mom and the rest of our family. They all ooh and ah over the new arrival and then Russ makes the announcement.

"I'd like everyone to meet Liliana Jade Crowe. Lily, for short." 

It feels so strange to one day be just another pregnant woman on the face of the earth, and then the next, to be someone's mom. And it's very weird to finally hold this little girl after so many months of waiting and hoping. Sometimes I thought she'd be inside of me forever; that's certainly what it was feeling like towards the end there.

Lily fits her perfectly, soft and pretty, like a spring flower. Besides, lilies are a sign of renewal, of purity, innocence and hope, and that's what she means to us after all we endured to bring her here. She IS our angel; for what she brought to us.

Russell is probably the proudest new dad I've ever seen. Along with his love and pride over his daughter, he's incredibly proud of me, too. He loves telling everyone how most first deliveries are long and tedious, but how I was only in labor for just over six hours and got the baby out with only about six pushes, as well. And, of course, he still can't believe he actually got to be the one to deliver her. I think that will stay with him for the rest of his life.

It cemented the bond that was already there between him and Lily. If I didn't know how very much he loved me, I'd almost be jealous of her, the way he dotes upon her. You'd never guess to look at him, big and scruffy and almost rough-looking, that he is so vulnerable when it comes to her. That first day of her life, in the hospital, he holds her constantly and the two of them just look at each other, communicating without words. It's the most moving sight, to see him with her.

The next day, we're ready to go home. Hospital security was so tight and so well maintained that we're able to leave without a problem. In fact, the world doesn't yet know about Lily---we plan to give the happy news in a bit. Right now, we're concentrating on simply being together as a family.

You hear about how a new baby, especially a first one, turns your life completely upside-down, well, Lily somehow seems to fit right in with no worries. Things are a little bit different for us, obviously, but we've waited and wanted her for so long that now that she's here, it's completely normal to have her around. Miraculous, but normal. Lily doesn't change the love Russ and I have for each other, but adds to it. When I first began to realize I loved Russell, I didn't think there was any more room in my heart for anyone else, but she's found a niche there all her own. I'm sure he'd tell you he feels the same way.

He let me nap this afternoon because I'm still worn out from the birth a week ago. I'm nursing, so that means never being far from the baby, but whenever Liliana sleeps, I take advantage of that by getting in some rest myself when I can. He gets up when we do in the middle of the night, because he says that wouldn't be fair if he didn't. God, he even loves the not-so-terrific aspects of parenthood thus far...I'm so lucky to have him.

Everything's quiet when I stir and open my eyes, but somehow, I sense I'm not alone. When I turn over, I have to smile. 

It seems everyone's taking advantage of the peace right now. Russ is beside me in his usual place in our bed, sound asleep...and lying on his chest, her arms and legs curled up close against her, is baby Lily, still sleeping herself. His large hands, looking so powerful next to her fragile body, cradle her gently, holding her to him. Her small self slightly rises and falls with his breathing, her little head resting over his heart, and as I watch her, her tiny pink mouth works just a bit, as if she's either dreaming or imagining she's feeding. And she's making those funny endearing baby sounds I love...I reach out and stroke her downy hair; one fist opens and closes reflexively at my touch, she sighs almost happily, and then settles down once more.

I touch Russell this time, stroke his hair, then I lean over to kiss his furry cheek and her velvety smooth one. In his sleep, he reaches out for me, his one hand continuing to rest on Lily's cute padded bottom while he wraps his other arm around me and pulls me in close next to him. I rest my head on his shoulder, my body cuddling into his side, and close my eyes again.

Our life is good. It might not always be perfect, but right here and now, it's about as perfect as it can be.