Chapter 134 A Mother's Heart
Olivia: POV
Two days after Daniel and Alex had visited, I was already itching to leave the hospital. The constant beeping of monitors, the antiseptic smell, and the endless parade of nurses checking my vitals had worn my patience thin.
"I'm ready to go home," I announced to Blake as he walked into my room that morning, carrying a coffee and looking annoyingly well-rested. "I can't spend another night in this bed."
Blake frowned, his protective instincts immediately kicking in. "It's only been three days since you gave birth, Olivia. Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I'm fine," I insisted, already swinging my legs over the side of the bed. A sharp twinge of pain made me wince, but I masked it quickly. "I'll heal better in our own home, where I can actually sleep without someone waking me up every two hours to check my blood pressure."
Blake set his coffee down and pressed the call button next to my bed. "Let's at least have the doctor examine you and Ethan before making any decisions. I'd rather not have you collapse halfway to the car."
I rolled my eyes but settled back against the pillows. "Fine. But I'm perfectly capable of walking out of here on my own."
The doctor arrived shortly after—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes who had delivered Ethan.
She examined me thoroughly, checking my recovery and asking about pain levels.
Then she moved to the bassinet where little Ethan slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling in a rhythm that still mesmerized me.
"Both mother and baby look excellent," she announced after completing her examination. "You're healing remarkably well, and Ethan's temperature has stabilized nicely. I don't see any reason why you can't be discharged today."
I shot Blake a triumphant look. "See? I told you."
He shook his head with a small smile. "I just wanted to be sure."
Once the doctor left, Blake helped me gather my things while a nurse prepared the discharge paperwork. I noticed he'd already packed the diaper bag with what looked like enough supplies for a week-long trip rather than a thirty-minute drive home.
"You're hovering," I commented as he folded my robe for the third time.
"I'm being thorough," he corrected, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "There's a difference."
When everything was ready, Blake insisted on pushing me in a wheelchair while I cradled Ethan in my arms. I wanted to protest—I wasn't an invalid—but the truth was, I was still sore and exhausted. Having him take care of us felt... nice.
The drive home was quiet, with me constantly checking on Ethan in his rear-facing car seat. Every time we hit a small bump in the road, I'd turn around to make sure he was still sleeping peacefully.
Blake drove more carefully than I'd ever seen, his hands gripping the steering wheel at precisely ten and two.
When we pulled into our driveway, I was surprised to see several cars parked outside.
"Did you know about this?" I asked Blake, suddenly feeling unprepared for visitors.
"No," he replied, looking equally surprised. "But I think our families had other ideas."
As Blake helped me from the car, the front door swung open. Both our families spilled out onto the porch—Blake's parents and brother, along with my parents and Mike.
Elizabeth Westwood was the first to reach us, her eyes shining with tears as she enveloped me in a gentle hug.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" she asked, pulling back to look at my face.
"Tired but good," I replied with a small smile. "Really good, actually."
William clapped Blake on the shoulder, his usually stern expression softened with emotion. "Congratulations, son."
One by one, they all hugged me, asking about my well-being and the birth before finally turning their attention to the tiny bundle in my arms.
Elizabeth gasped when I carefully transferred Ethan to her, tears streaming down her face as she gazed at her grandson.
"He looks just like Blake did," she whispered, gently rocking him. "Same little nose."
"Poor kid," Nathan joked, peering over her shoulder. "Let's hope he grows out of it."
Blake flipped him off behind their mother's back, earning a smirk from his brother.
While everyone cooed over Ethan, Blake slipped into the kitchen. I knew he was probably preparing something to eat—he'd been obsessively making sure I was well-fed since the moment we found out I was pregnant.
After a few minutes of watching our families pass Ethan around like the precious treasure he was, I excused myself and followed Blake to the kitchen. He was pulling ingredients from the refrigerator, already assembling what looked like a pasta dish.
"You should be resting," he said immediately, abandoning the vegetables to guide me to a chair.
"I've been lying down for days," I protested weakly. "Besides, I wanted to check on you."
He kissed the top of my head. "I'm fine. Just making dinner for everyone. Are you hungry?"
I nodded. "Starving, actually. Hospital food is the worst."
Blake quickly assembled a plate of fruit, cheese, and crackers, placing it in front of me along with a glass of water. "Appetizer while you wait."
I reached for a grape, but he beat me to it, popping it into my mouth. I raised an eyebrow but accepted the gesture, opening my mouth for another piece of fruit.
"I can feed myself, you know," I said after swallowing.
"I know," he replied, already cutting a slice of cheese into bite-sized pieces. "But I like taking care of you."
A cry from the living room interrupted us. Ethan's distinctive wail pierced the air, and I immediately started to rise.
"He's probably hungry," I said, wincing slightly as I stood. "I should—"
Blake gently pressed me back into the chair. "Finish eating first. I'll check on him."
I hesitated. "Blake, I don't want you to feel like you have to do everything. He's my son too, and I don't want to neglect him just because I'm a little sore."
He took my hand, squeezing it gently. "Listen to me. I don't want you to sacrifice your own needs for his, even if he is my son. In my heart, you'll always come first. Let me take care of him right now."
The room fell silent, and I realized everyone had heard his little speech. Elizabeth broke into a wide grin.
"That's exactly how it should be," she declared, looking pointedly at William. "William, are you taking notes?"
William chuckled. "After thirty-five years, I'd hope I've figured it out by now."
My mother smiled warmly at Blake. "With Blake being so attentive, I don't have to worry about Olivia being taken care of."
I felt my cheeks flush with warmth. "I'm truly grateful for how considerate he always is of my feelings. I couldn't have asked for a better partner through all this."
As Blake walked to the living room to retrieve our crying son, I watched him go with a full heart.
Now, surrounded by family, with my son's cries being soothed by his father's gentle voice, and the knowledge that I was truly, deeply loved, I felt a contentment I'd never known before.