The eighth week, Lena said her first word.
Not Mama.
Not Dada.
Something else.
Something that made them both laugh until they cried.
---
It happened on a Friday.
Damien was in the nursery. Lena was on the changing table. She was supposed to be getting a fresh diaper. Instead, she was staring at the mobile above her head, watching the tiny stuffed animals spin in lazy circles.
"Those are birds," Damien said. "Can you say bird?"
Lena stared.
"Bbbbbbbird."
Lena kicked her legs.
"Close enough."
---
Christabel appeared in the doorway.
"Are you teaching her to talk?"
"I'm teaching her to bird."
"That's not a verb."
"It is now."
She walked to the changing table.
Looked down at her daughter.
"Hi, baby."
Lena looked up at her.
And said, "Bah."
---
Christabel froze.
"What did she say?"
"She said bah."
"That's not a word."
"It's her first word."
"Bah is not a word."
"It's her word."
Lena said it again. "Bah."
Damien laughed.
Christabel stared.
"She's talking," Damien said.
"She's making sounds."
"She's communicating."
"She's babbling."
"She's saying bah."
"That's not a word."
"It is now."
---
Lena said it a third time. "Bah."
Then she smiled.
Christabel started crying.
Damien pulled her close.
"Our daughter's first word is bah," he said.
"Our daughter's first word is not a word."
"It's her word."
"It's not a real word."
"It's real to her."
Christabel laughed.
The sound was wet and broken and real.
"I can't believe this."
"I can."
"Why?"
"Because she's yours."
---
They spent the rest of the morning trying to get Lena to say it again.
Sometimes she did. Sometimes she didn't.
When she did, they cheered.
When she didn't, she stared at them like they were idiots.
"She has your judgmental face," Christabel said.
"She has your stubbornness."
"She's eight weeks old."
"She's advanced."
"She said bah."
"That's very advanced."
---
That afternoon, Sarah came over.
Christabel couldn't wait to tell her.
"She said her first word."
"Really? What word?"
"Bah."
Sarah stared.
"Bah?"
"Bah."
"That's not a word."
"It's her word."
Sarah looked at Damien.
He shrugged.
"She's yours," Sarah said to Christabel.
"She's ours."
"She said bah."
"She's a genius."
---
Lena was in her bouncy seat, watching the adults with dark, curious eyes.
"Say bah," Christabel said.
Lena stared.
"Bah."
Lena kicked her legs.
"Bah."
Lena looked away.
"She's ignoring me," Christabel said.
"She's eight weeks old," Sarah said. "She's allowed to ignore you."
"She said bah this morning."
"Maybe she forgot."
"You can't forget your first word."
"She's eight weeks old."
"She's a genius."
Sarah laughed.
"She's yours."
---
That night, Damien put Lena to bed.
He read her a story. Not a baby book. A real story. One of his favorites.
"There was a boy who wasn't afraid of anything," he read. "Until he met a girl who was afraid of everything. And he realized that being brave wasn't about not being afraid. It was about being afraid and staying anyway."
Lena stared at him.
"Bah," she said.
"That's right," he said. "Bah."
---
Christabel was in the doorway.
"She said it again."
"She said it to me."
"She said it to both of us."
He closed the book.
Set it on the nightstand.
"She's going to be a talker."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to shut her up."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell. Her fingers were curled around the edge of her blanket.
"I can't believe she said bah," Christabel whispered.
"I can."
"Why?"
"Because she's yours. Because you're hers. Because the first word she ever heard was your voice."
"That's not how it works."
"It's how it works for us."
---
They went to bed.
Not to sleep.
To hold each other.
"I'm scared," Christabel said.
"Of what?"
"Of her growing up. Of her leaving. Of her not needing me anymore."
"She'll always need you."
"Not the same way."
"No." He kissed her forehead. "Not the same way. But she'll always need you."
---
The next morning, Lena woke at dawn.
Not crying.
Cooing.
Christabel went to her.
Lifted her from the crib.
"Good morning, little one," she said.
Lena looked at her.
"Bah," she said.
"That's right," Christabel said. "Bah."
Lena smiled.
Christabel cried.
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She said it again," he said.
"She said it to me."
"She said it to both of us."
He walked to them.
Put his arm around Christabel.
"This is us," he said.
"This is us," she agreed.
"Broken. Healing. Together."
She looked at him.
"Bah," she said.
He laughed.
"Bah," he agreed.