Reconnected.

She tapped gingerly at the birthing room door announcing herself more so than requesting admission. Unsure of how her visit would be received she tiptoed forward. The postpartum mother lay resting silently. Her eyes nervously scanned the room for the bassinet and new baby - a girl.
She stood unsure of what to do. Lifting the baby could wake the mother. Waking the mother could cause a confrontation. She ached battling her heart and her head searching for why she came, how she could explain herself. Three years were long and silent both women the victims of circumstance. The distance that had grown between them was undeniable.
She turned to leave suddenly ashamed and hoping to make a clean getaway. Just steps from the door, her cell phone betrayed her, startling the mother awake and stirring the girl child.
The mother blinked and wiped away the blur that follows broken sleep. "Have a seat," came the invitation.
"I'm sorry," was her stuttered reply, "I had to come."
"I'm glad you did. Stay a bit. Meet my daughter."
With this gentle exchange all the tension melted. She belonged with them and them with her.

Newness.

There was just something about the way his calloused strong hands were holding her tiny newness that begged a silent moment of attention. The wonder in his eyes as he drank her in was mystical. She encouraged him with her coos and soft blinks that only new eyes know. The amazement shone from within his heart. His love poured out as he brought her in close to his cheek. Their warmth was one. With her ear at his lips he whispered, "Hello, Daughter."