Chapter 70 Elena
In August, Ariella went on leave from school. Spent her days preparing, nesting, panicking about everything they still didn’t know.
“What if we’re terrible parents?” she asked during a particularly anxious evening.
“Then we’ll be terrible parents who love her and try our best.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“It’s honest, though. We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to be present.”
“When did you get so wise?”
“Therapy. Lots of therapy.”
They were both in therapy still individual and couples. Processing the trauma of the past two years while preparing for the future. Learning to be partners without crisis binding them.
“Are we ready for this?” Ariella asked.
“No. But we’re doing it anyway.”
“Story of our lives.”
“Pretty much.”
September arrived with false labor scares and growing anxiety.
October came with a due date and no baby.
“She’s late,” Ariella said, miserable and enormous at forty-one weeks.
“She’s stubborn. Like her mother.”
“Don’t blame me. She’s your daughter too.”
“Then she’s stubborn like both her parents. We’re doomed.”
The next day, at 3:47 a.m. the same time Richard had died, the same time Aiden’s nightmares always started, Ariella woke up to her water breaking.
“Aiden,” she said, shaking him. “It’s time.”
He shot up, immediately awake. “Time time?”
“Time time.”
They’d practiced this. Had a bag packed, a route planned, the hospital pre-registered. But all that preparation flew out the window as they scrambled to get ready, both terrified and excited and completely unprepared despite months of preparing.
“We’re having a baby,” Ariella said in the car.
“We’re having a baby,” Aiden confirmed, driving carefully through empty streets.
“Oh my god, we’re having a baby.”
“Try not to panic.”
“Too late. Full panic mode engaged.”
“Me too.”
They held hands across the console, two teenagers about to become parents, terrified and sure in equal measure.
Together, like always.
Labor was nothing like the books described.
It was longer, eighteen hours of contractions that felt like being torn apart. It was harder, Ariella screaming things at Aiden she’d apologize for later. It was more terrifying, monitors beeping, nurses whispering, moments where time seemed to stop.
But it was also more.
More love than Ariella knew existed. More strength than she thought she had. More partnership than any contract could have created.
Aiden never left her side. He Held her hand through contractions that broke his fingers. Whispered encouragement when she wanted to give up. Cried with her when the pain felt like too much.
“I can’t do this,” she sobbed at hour sixteen.
“You can. You are. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I’m not strong. I’m broken and scared and…”
“And about to meet our daughter. Come on, Ari. Just a little more.”
At 9:47 p.m. on October 23rd, Elena Marie Frost entered the world.
She came out screaming, angry, perfect and impossibly small. The nurse placed her on Ariella’s chest, still covered in vernix, still connected by umbilical cord, still more miracle than real.
“Hi,” Ariella whispered, touching her daughter’s tiny face. “Hi, Elena. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Elena stopped crying at her mother’s voice. Opened dark eyes that would probably change color. Looked at Ariella like she was the entire world.
And Ariella fell in love so completely it hurt.
“She’s perfect,” Aiden said, voice cracked with tears. “Oh my god, she’s perfect.”
“Do you want to cut the cord?” the doctor asked.
Aiden did, hands shaking. Then Elena was whisked away briefly, weighed, measured, assessed. Seven pounds, four ounces. Nineteen inches. All fingers and toes accounted for. Perfectly healthy.
They brought her back wrapped in a hospital blanket, tiny hat on her tiny head. Placed her in Aiden’s arms for the first time.
He stood frozen, terrified he’d break her.
“You’re okay,” Ariella said. “You’re not going to drop her.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you. You’ve got this.”
He looked down at his daughter, this tiny person they’d made, this impossible combination of both of them. Elena had Ariella’s nose, Aiden’s chin, neither of their eyes yet.
“Hi, Elena,” he whispered. “I’m your dad. I’m going to try really hard not to screw this up.”
Elena yawned, already bored with his concerns.
The first night was chaos.
Elena wouldn’t sleep unless someone was holding her. She nursed every hour. She cried for reasons they couldn’t decipher, hungry? Wet? Tired? All of the above?
“We’re terrible at this,” Ariella said at 4 a.m., trying to get Elena to latch for the hundredth time.
“We’ve been parents for six hours. We’re allowed to be terrible.”
“She’s crying again.”
“She’s probably…” Aiden checked the diaper. “Yep. Wet. How does something so small produce so much pee?”
They changed her together, both fumbling with tiny snaps and impossible folds. Elena screamed through the whole thing, outraged at the indignity.
“I’m sorry,” Ariella told her. “We’re new at this. Please be patient with us.”
Elena was not patient. She was demanding and loud and kept them awake all night.
And they’d never been more in love.
In the morning, the nurses brought breakfast and congratulations. Claire and Lily arrived at visiting hours with flowers and tears.
“Oh,” Claire breathed, seeing her granddaughter for the first time. “Oh, she’s beautiful.”
“Want to hold her?” Ariella offered.
Claire took Elena with practiced ease. “Hi, sweet girl. I’m your grandmother. I’m going to spoil you rotten.”
“That’s literally the grandmother job description,” Lily said, peering at the baby. “Wow, she’s tiny. Was I that tiny?”
“Tinier,” Aiden said. “You were six pounds.”
“How do humans even survive being that small?”
“Very carefully.”
Marcus arrived later with legal documents,birth certificate paperwork, trust fund papers, guardianship arrangements. Even brand new life came with bureaucracy.
“Her full name for the record?” he asked.
“Elena Marie Frost,” Aiden said.
“Not Hayes-Frost?”
Ariella and Aiden exchanged a look. They’d discussed this during pregnancy, whether to give Elena both names or just one.
“Just Frost,” Ariella decided. “Hayes can be her middle name eventually if she wants it. But I want her to have one clear identity, not feel split between two families.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. She’s a Frost. That’s okay.”
Marcus made notes. “And for guardianship, if something happens to both of you?”
“Claire,” they said simultaneously.
“And Lily as backup,” Aiden added. “If Claire can’t or won’t.”
“I’ll draft everything and bring it by your apartment next week.”
Because even at two days old, Elena needed legal protection.