The nurses came in to do yet another vitals check, waking the baby and Ruby in the process. They urged me to try nursing again, which was not the intuitive, natural process everyone made it out to be.
“Flatten it,” Kate, the lactation consultant instructed. “Like a hamburger. Then shove it into his mouth.”
She hovered over me, dressed in yellow scrubs, and manhandled my not at all small breast, brushing my nipple over the baby’s little rosebud mouth. In response, he opened up and magically latched around it.
With her pinky, she pulled his bottom lip down. “There. That’s a strong latch.”
The sucking sensation was strange, but this time, it wasn’t painful.
“You know,” Ruby said, shuffling to the side of the bed and stroking my hair. “I’ve read at least a dozen pregnancy and birth books, and not one of them mentions how challenging nursing is.”
“Breastfeeding is a complicated dance where both partners have to learn their steps,” Kate explained, giving Ruby a pitying look. “And one partner is exhausted and experiencing raging postpartum hormones, while the other is only a few hours old and not yet strong enough to hold their head up.”
“So it’s not easy.” Ruby deflated. “I feel like I’ve been lied to, and I haven’t even started the third trimester.”
I winked at my friend. “This part, where you and Frankie and the nurses do the work for me and I sit here like a cow, is pretty easy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Overachiever.”
Kate smiled. “We work with every caregiver and baby to find the right fit. Fed is best, whether from breast or bottle. But this little champ is doing pretty well so far.”
He suckled, swallowing greedily, his eyes closed.
A wave of elation washed over me. For what felt like the first time in my life, my body was actually doing something right.
“It takes a few days for your supply to fully come in, and I’m here to help. But the most important thing is that you are both healthy.”
“Thank you,” I said, tears filling my eyes and spilling over. I’d been doing a lot of crying over the past twenty-four hours.
Ruby patted my shoulder. “Don’t mind her. Surprise pregnancy and childbirth can really do a number on a person.”
Kate smiled. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check, but you’ve got this so far.”
After several minutes, I burped him, then Ruby helped me get him latched on the other side. I tried to hamburger my own boob, but I wasn’t coordinated enough to do it properly while also supporting my baby’s fragile neck and head. So Ruby did it for me, and again, my hungry little guy got right in there.
“You’re a natural,” she murmured.
“No. But I have you, andyou’rea natural. Plus you’ve spent the last six months reading up on the subject.”
She smiled. “I’m glad all my obsessing helps. And I’ve got you. We’re doing this together.”
In addition to being my first and closest friend in Maplewood, Ruby owned Stitch and Stone, the local clothingboutique. She was bright and bold and stylish, basically my complete opposite. Tiny, with red hair cut into a bob and a full sleeve of tattoos on her left arm, she exuded confident cool, even while she was heavily pregnant. Her husband Paul was a straitlaced accountant who liked to cut loose by playing bass in one of Maplewood’s rock cover bands.
Dressed in a black and white checkered maternity dress paired with an oversized lime green cardigan, she smiled down at me, rubbing her belly. “Raising our little beans together. We both know my son will be the bad influence hellion and yours will be the one to keep him in check.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Nah. He’s half Paul. That quiet accountant DNA will balance him?—”
The door to my room flew open, ending our debate.
“I’m here.”
Frankie pushed through the door, a large shopping bag hanging from one arm and a pizza box in the other. “And I brought pizza.”
“It’s ten a.m.,” Ruby drawled.
“Tony owed me. I’m constantly fixing up that old Alpha Romeo he’s so obsessed with. And besides, you gave birth in his shop.”
“I gave birth in this hospital,” I corrected.
