He held Beverly’s hand while Phyllis coached her on breathing and guided the whole process as naturally as the world would ever expect. The mother insisted that she not know the sex of her child. She’d only wanted to get the birth done and the baby removed as quickly as possible.
Peter felt his eyes well with tears as he held his son. The boy was perfect and he respected Beverly’s wishes by taking him out of the birthing room. He wondered how disappointed his daughter might be with a brother instead of a sister, but he had no doubt they would all be fine. Things seemed to work that way for them.
The child was taken, weighed, measured and soon he was back in his father’s arms. There was no reason for either to stay overnight. Roland Peter Wilson-Bennett was on his way home to his crib in his nursery adjacent to his fathers’ room.