“And he was in early to clean the amniotic fluid off the floor,” she countered.
A wave of guilt washed over me. Oh God, I’d surely made an unholy mess.
The thought was cut short, though, when the most amazing smell hit me. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until one of Tony’s pizzas was in my vicinity.
“Hospital food sucks,” Frankie said. “So I figured you could use this. You need sustenance to make all the milk this kid’s gonna drink.”
I looked down at the baby, who was slurping away, unbothered, my heart melting as I once again took in his tiny features.
“I stopped by your house. Picked up your shampoo and moisturizer and some decent comfy clothes.”
Confusion flitted through me. “I didn’t give you my keys.”
She smiled. “I found my way in. Don’t worry, I locked up when I was finished.”
I huffed a laugh. I shouldn’t be surprised. Frankie Dunne was terrifying. All five foot two of her. She was wiry and feisty and had won many fights against larger, stronger male opponents. To underestimate her was at one’s peril.
She was also one of the most loving, loyal, funny people I’d ever met. Not that she wanted that information to get out.
She had to maintain her reputation as Maplewood’s badass mechanic, after all.
She employed only women and was known for fair pricing, efficient service, and treating her employees well.
Despite the April chill, she was wearing her usual tank top, showing off her impressive biceps and a generous collection of ink. My friends were infinitely cooler than I was. Her honey hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she had her coveralls tied around her waist.
“You name him yet?” she asked, handing Ruby a slice of pizza.
Peering down at my son again, I shook my head. “I just need a minute.” I stroked his cheek. I’d just met him, and already, I knew exactly who he was. But it seemed weird to make this decision all on my own.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ruby asked, her expression full of empathy.
“Talk about my fucked-up body and how I didn’t know I was pregnant?” My eyes filled with tears again. “I hurt my baby because I was a clueless idiot who didn’t see the signs.”
“Stop that,” Frankie commanded, giving me a stern look. “The doctors said he’s perfectly healthy. You did not hurt him.”
“You’ve been obsessively googling every moment you can,” Ruby added. “And demanding he be examined by every health care provider in this hospital. I’m pretty sure the X-ray tech even gave him a once over to make you happy.”
The tears feel in earnest now. They weren’t wrong. I was paranoid. Terrified that without prenatal vitamins and the proper care, I’d done irreparable damage. But their kindness was just as heart-wrenching.
“You’re already a health nut. We know he was well nourished in there.”
“And he was eight pounds,” Ruby added with a huff.
We’d had this conversation already. But the guilt still wouldn’t go away.
I lowered my focus to him again, my tears dripping onto my hospital gown. Thank God I’d been so hung up on my health recently.
I’d felt off. I was exhausted, and I’d gained weight for inexplicable reasons. In general, I struggled to feel like myself.
Now it seemed so obvious. But I’d been to the doctor, and I’d gotten the usual “lose weight, eat healthy foods, and exercise” advice, so I’d done it.
I’d quit drinking, taken up yoga and hiking, and started taking all kinds of vitamins. I’d even started ordering the kale and kiwi smoothie at Bean There, Sipped That instead of my usual chocolate croissant.
And thank God I’d made so many changes. I shuddered at the thought of what could have happened had I not cleaned up my act.
Regardless, the guilt and shame ate at me.
I’d have to work really hard to make it up to this little guy.
