In Ana Cristina's Honour: A Ficlet Birthday Card

“I can’t believe it,” the young mother was spent, sweat matted, exhausted – euphoric.
Her husband looked down at the precious package that wiggled within the tightly wrapped blankets.
“I can’t believe it either. I mean look at her,”
Mother’s tears streamed down her face, “She’s beautiful,”
Father touched his finger to her tiny little nose, which wrinkled beneath it, “Hello, my princess… yes, hello there,” He looked up at the ceiling, “MY GOD , how did we do this? She’s gorgeous; the best looking baby in the ward,”
Mother laughed, “You’re a biased husband and father,”
“Maybe, but you can’t tell me I’m wrong,”
Mother’s chin was all aquiver, “No.. No I can’t,” she wiped her tears away, and hardened herself, “Now hand me my child,” she laughed.
“Yes Ma’am,” Father eased his child in his wife’s hand, “Here you are Ana, go see Mommy,”
Mother caught herself, “Ana?”
Father shrugged, “It just came out, I didn’t even think about it,”
“Ana Cristina!” Mom thought, “Perfect!”
Dad said, “Happy Birthday Ana Cristina!”

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