Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 28
Uncle Noam

The call came at 3:47 AM on a Tuesday in early January.

Ash woke to voices in the hallway—Patrick's low rumble, Shannon's higher-pitched excitement. The bedroom door opening, footsteps hurrying.

"—started about an hour ago—"

"—meet them at the hospital—"

"—need to stay here with—"

Ash sat up in the crib, gripping the bars. What was happening?

Shannon appeared in the doorway, already dressed, grabbing her purse. She saw him awake and came over quickly.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay. Claire's having the baby!" Her voice was breathless with excitement. "Mommy's going to the hospital to be with her. Daddy's staying home with you."

The baby. Claire's baby. The one that had been growing all through the fall, the belly that had gotten so big she could barely bend down to hug him at Christmas.

"Is she okay?" Ash asked, sleep-fogged and disoriented.

"She's perfect. Everything's going exactly as it should." Shannon kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, sweetie. I'll tell you all about it when I get home. You're going to be an uncle!"

She was gone before he could process it fully. Patrick appeared moments later, still in pajamas, hair disheveled.

"Big day," he said softly, lifting Ash out of the crib. "Let's get you changed and then you can sleep in our bed for a while. It's too early to be up."

Ash let Patrick change his diaper—wet from sleeping—and carry him to the master bedroom. The bed was still warm where Shannon had been sleeping. Patrick tucked him in and climbed in on the other side.

"Try to sleep," Patrick murmured. "We'll probably hear something in a few hours."

But Ash lay awake in the dark, thinking about Claire. About her being in pain right now, about a baby coming into the world. About becoming Uncle Noam to an actual infant who would never know him as Ash.

He must have dozed off eventually, because he woke to daylight and Patrick on the phone, voice low and urgent.

"—how long now?—"

"—doing great, that's good—"

"—tell her we love her—"

Patrick noticed Ash was awake. "Shannon, hold on." He covered the phone. "Good morning, buddy. Claire's doing great. Still going to be a while though."

"Is the baby here?"

"Not yet. Soon." Patrick returned to the phone. "Yeah, I'm here. Okay. Love you too. Call me when—okay. Bye."

He hung up and looked at Ash. "Labor takes time. Could be hours yet. Let's get you some breakfast."

By 9 AM, the house felt strange. Too quiet. Just Patrick and Ash, going through morning routines that felt off without Shannon there.

Patrick made oatmeal—not as good as Shannon's, a little too thick. Put Ash in his high chair. Turned on the TV to a nature show while he cleaned up the kitchen.

His phone rang constantly. Updates from Shannon. Calls from Cathy and Declan and Eden, all wanting news. Patrick fielding them calmly, reporting what he knew: Claire was doing well, progressing normally, these things take time.

Around 10:30, there was a knock at the door.

"Dad!" A voice called. "It's us!"

Patrick opened the door to reveal Cathy, Declan, and Eden, all looking anxious and excited.

"We couldn't just sit around," Cathy said, pushing past him into the house. "Figured we'd wait here. That okay?"

"Of course." Patrick looked relieved to have company. "Fair warning though, I'm on Noam duty, so—"

"We'll help!" Eden said immediately. "Where is he?"

They found Ash in the living room, playing with his Duplos. Building a structure that was becoming increasingly complex—towers and bridges and rooms.

"Hey, buddy," Cathy said, sitting on the floor near him. "Heard you're going to be an uncle today."

"Is the baby here yet?"

"Not yet. But soon." Cathy picked up a Duplo piece. "Can I build with you?"

They settled into an uneasy routine. Patrick making coffee for everyone. The adults taking turns checking phones, discussing how long Claire had been in labor, sharing birth stories from friends.

Ash kept building, hyperaware of his siblings around him. They all seemed nervous—pacing, fidgeting, constantly checking the time.

"First babies always take forever," Declan said, but his voice was tight. "That's normal, right?"

"Completely normal," Patrick assured him. "Shannon said everything's progressing well. Claire's strong."

Eden sat down next to Ash. "What are you building?"

"A hospital." The irony wasn't lost on him. "With a baby area."

"A maternity ward," Eden said softly. "That's perfect." She helped him build, adding a waiting room section. "Like where Claire is right now."

They built in silence for a while. The Duplo hospital growing under their combined hands. Declan eventually joined them, then Cathy, all four siblings on the floor with Ash, building something together while they waited for news about the newest member of the family.

Patrick's phone rang at 11:47 AM.

Everyone froze.

Patrick looked at the screen. "It's Shannon." He answered, putting it on speaker. "Hello?"

"It's a girl!" Shannon's voice was thick with tears—happy ones. "Eight pounds, three ounces, twenty inches long. Claire did amazing. Everyone's healthy and perfect and—oh Patrick, she's so beautiful—"

The room erupted. Cathy started crying. Eden let out a whoop. Declan laughed with relief. Patrick's eyes got suspiciously shiny.

"A girl," Patrick said. "Our granddaughter. Is Claire—"

"She's perfect. Tired but perfect. The baby's perfect. They're both perfect." Shannon was definitely crying now. "I wish you could see her, Patrick. She has Claire's nose and so much dark hair—"

"What's her name?" Eden asked loudly, leaning toward the phone.

"Oh! Yes! Sophie. Sophie Claire Warner."

"Sophie," Patrick repeated, voice soft with wonder. "Hello, Sophie."

They talked for a few more minutes—details about the delivery, when they could visit, how Marcus was doing (overwhelmed but happy), how long they'd stay in the hospital.

When Patrick hung up, the room was electric with joy and relief.

"We have a niece!" Cathy said, pulling Eden into a hug. "Sophie!"

Declan grabbed his coat. "Hospital visiting hours start at 2 PM, right? We should head over then?"

"I'll call and check," Patrick said. "Make sure they're ready for visitors."

In the celebration, Ash sat quietly on the floor, surrounded by his Duplo hospital. Sophie. His niece. His—

"You're an uncle now," Cathy said, crouching down to his level. "Uncle Noam. How does that feel?"

Ash didn't know how to answer. How did it feel to be an uncle to a baby when you were physically younger than that baby would ever remember you being? When that baby would grow up thinking of you as her toddler uncle, never knowing you'd once been twenty-four?

"It's weird," he said finally.

"Yeah," Cathy said softly. "I bet it is. But you'll be a great uncle. You're good with kids—look at how you are with Emma and Marcus."

"They're my age."

"You know what I mean." Cathy squeezed his small shoulder. "You'll be gentle with her. Patient. Creative—you can build her amazing things with these Duplos when she's older."

When Sophie was older. When she was two or three and Uncle Noam was four or five. When she was ten and he'd be twelve. When she was graduating high school and he'd only be in his early thirties, still younger than he'd been when this all started.

At 2:15 PM, they all piled into two cars—Patrick driving with Ash in his car seat, the siblings following in Cathy's car.

The hospital was familiar to Shannon—too familiar, from all of Ash's overdose visits—but today was different. Today was joy instead of terror.

They found Claire's room on the maternity ward. Shannon met them at the door, beaming.

"She's nursing right now, so just be quiet when you come in, okay?" Shannon looked at Ash, being carried by Patrick. "And Noam, you have to be very gentle. Babies are fragile."

Inside, Claire was propped up in the bed, looking exhausted but radiant. In her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in a pink hospital blanket.

Sophie.

Ash's first glimpse of his niece was her face, smaller than he'd imagined. Scrunched and red, eyes closed, mouth working as she nursed. She had a shocking amount of dark hair for a newborn, just like Shannon had described.

"Oh my god," Eden whispered. "Claire, she's perfect."

"She really is," Claire said, her voice tired but full of wonder. She looked up at Marcus, who stood beside the bed looking shell-shocked and besotted. "We made a perfect person."

They took turns approaching the bed carefully. Cathy cried again. Declan looked uncomfortable but awed. Eden took approximately a thousand pictures.

Patrick set Ash down near the bed. Shannon lifted him up so he could see better, her hands firm around his waist.

"Noam, this is Sophie. Your niece. You're her uncle."

Ash looked at the tiny baby. She'd finished nursing and Claire had repositioned her, cradling her against her chest. Sophie's eyes were open now—dark blue, unfocused, looking at nothing and everything.

She was so small. Impossibly small. Smaller than him, and he was small.

"Do you want to hold her?" Claire asked. "We can try, if you're very careful."

Ash's heart hammered. Hold her? While he was—

But Shannon was already positioning him, sitting him on the bed beside Claire, arranging his arms. Patrick moved close, ready to assist.

"Support her head," Claire instructed, lowering Sophie into Ash's lap. "Just like that. Perfect."

Sophie was warm and solid and weighed almost nothing. She squirmed slightly, making a small noise. Her hand—tiny, perfect, with fingernails like little shells—waved in the air.

"You're a natural," Claire said, smiling. "Look at you. Uncle Noam."

Ash stared down at Sophie. At this brand new person. This baby who was his niece, who he was uncle to, who would grow up knowing him only as Noam, the weird situation where her uncle was perpetually a toddler.

Sophie's eyes found his face. Couldn't really focus yet, but looked in his general direction. Her mouth made little movements.

"She's looking at you," Marcus said, phone out, taking pictures. "First time meeting Uncle Noam."

"Talk to her," Shannon encouraged softly. "Let her hear your voice."

What do you say to a newborn? What do you say when you're supposed to be her uncle but you're trapped in a body younger than she'll remember?

"Hi, Sophie," Ash heard himself say. His voice soft, gentle. "I'm Noam. I'm your uncle."

The words felt strange. Uncle Noam. But Sophie didn't know anything was strange. She just squirmed in his lap, tiny and warm and utterly helpless.

"You're going to be so loved," Ash continued, not quite sure where the words were coming from. "Everyone here already loves you so much. Your mom and your dad and your grandparents and all your aunts and uncles."

"That's beautiful," Claire said, her voice thick. "Oh god, hormones. I'm going to cry again."

They took pictures—so many pictures. Sophie in Ash's lap, looking tiny against his small body. The whole family gathered around the bed. Claire and Marcus with their daughter. Patrick and Shannon with their first grandchild.

After a few minutes, Shannon took Sophie back, letting the other siblings have turns holding her. But Ash stayed on the bed, watching as his niece was passed carefully from person to person.

"You were great with her," Eden said, sitting beside him. "Really gentle."

"She's so small."

"You remember being that small, don't you?" Eden said it without thinking, then caught herself. "Sorry, that was—"

"I don't remember being a baby," Ash said quietly. "Not my first time as one, anyway."

Eden flinched. "Ash—"

"Noam," Ash corrected automatically. Sophie would only ever know him as Noam. It was important to remember that. "I'm Noam to her."

"Yeah," Eden said softly. "You are."

They stayed for another hour before the nurse suggested Claire needed rest. Plans were made—Shannon would come back tomorrow, Patrick would bring dinner later, the siblings would visit again in a few days once Claire was home.

In the car on the way home, Ash was quiet. Patrick glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"You okay back there, buddy?"

"Yeah."

"You did really well with Sophie. Very gentle, very mature."

Mature. The word felt absurd applied to him now, but Ash knew what Patrick meant. He'd been careful. Appropriate. Had acted like a good uncle even though the situation was fundamentally bizarre.

"She's really small," Ash said.

"She is. But she'll grow fast. Before you know it, she'll be sitting up and crawling and getting into everything." Patrick smiled. "You'll have fun playing with her when she's a little older."

Playing with his niece. With Sophie. Who would grow up thinking of him as Uncle Noam, just a few years older than her. Who would never know he'd been twenty-four when she was born. Who would accept without question that her uncle was only a few grades ahead of her in school.

The thought made something twist in Ash's chest.

"Are you excited to be an uncle?" Patrick asked.

Ash thought about it. Was he excited? Confused? Sad? All of it?

"I don't know," he said honestly. "It's weird."

"It is weird," Patrick agreed. "But weird doesn't mean bad. You'll figure it out. And Sophie—she's going to love having an uncle close to her age. When she's three or four, you two will probably be great playmates."

Playmates. Him and his niece. Just a few years apart in age even though he was her uncle. Both children together, except he'd have an adult mind in a child's body while she'd be genuinely young.

Five thousand seven hundred and six days to go.

But today wasn't about counting. Today was about Sophie being born. About becoming Uncle Noam. About holding a tiny baby who was family, who was connected to him through Claire, through blood and love and complicated circumstances.

That night at dinner—takeout pizza that Patrick cut into small pieces for Ash—Patrick got a text with photos from Marcus.

"Look," he said, showing Ash his phone. "Claire sent more pictures."

Sophie sleeping, wrapped tight in her blanket. Sophie with Claire, both of them drowsy. Sophie's tiny hand gripping Marcus's finger.

And one of Ash holding her, his small arms cradling her carefully, his face serious and tender as he looked down at her.

"That's a really good picture," Patrick said. "I'm going to have Shannon print it for your room. Your first day as an uncle."

Ash stared at the photo. At himself—at Noam—holding his hours-old niece. Looking like a child with a baby doll, except the love in his expression was real. The care was real.

"Can I see it again?" Ash asked.

Patrick showed him, letting him look as long as he wanted.

In the photo, Uncle Noam held baby Sophie. And despite everything—despite the wrongness of it all, despite the sixteen years stretching ahead—there was something right about that moment too.

A new life beginning.

A new relationship forming.

Uncle and niece.

However strange the circumstances, however complicated the future, that bond was real.

And Sophie would never know it was supposed to be any different.

That night in the crib, Ash thought about Sophie. About her tiny fingers and unfocused eyes. About how warm she'd been in his lap, how careful he'd been to support her head.

"My name is Ash," he whispered. But then added, "And I'm Uncle Noam to Sophie."

Both things were true.

Both things would always be true.

Even if Sophie would only ever know the second part.

He fell asleep thinking about tiny fingers and dark hair and the weight of a newborn in his arms, and dreamed of a little girl growing up calling him Uncle Noam, never knowing he'd once been someone else entirely.

Five thousand seven hundred and six days to go.

But today, a new clock had started.

Day one of being Uncle Noam.

And despite everything, that felt like something worth counting.