Gwen didn’t remember seeing this nurse before, but most of the previous hours were lost to her.
“Is the doctor coming soon?” Gwen asked.
She needed to see the doctor. She needed to ask questions, find out when she could get out of here, when her life could go back to normal. So many days she had agonized about the long hours home alone with June, doing nothing but breastfeeding and tummy time and napping (well, June napped, only in the swing, while Gwen used the “free time” to do chores or shower). She would give anything for those days now, anything to just return to the rhythm that had previously felt so dull and soul crushing.
“Doctor should be doing rounds soon,” the nurse said with another robotic smile before turning to head out.
“Thanks,” Gwen managed.
“Can we ask you a question?” Leigh said.
The nurse turned around and made a show of exhaling.
“Sure,” she said.
“Women breastfeed after this, right?” Leigh asked.
The nurse took a moment to respond, and Gwen could imagine the wheels turning in her brain. Did she even remember why Gwen was there? The nurse’s eyes landed on June, and she seemed to suddenly understand.
“Oh, you’ll have to ask the doctor,” she said. “But I’m not sure it’ll be feasible to breastfeed after this.”
Gwen stared at her name badge—Mari. She hated Mari and her use of the wordfeasible. Mari was young. Mari probably did not have children. Mari didn’t understand. She wanted to punch Mari.
“But women do, right?” Leigh asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” she said, looking at the watch on her wrist, alerting them to her busy schedule. “But from what I’ve seen, it’s usually a formula situation after something like this.”
A formula situation.
Leigh rolled her eyes aggressively, and Gwen’s heart swelled in appreciation for her friend’s annoyance.
“Okay, we’ll ask the doctor,” Leigh said.
Gwen was so thankful for this “we,” for the way Leigh made the two of them a team, figuring out this situation together.
When the nurse had barely left the room, Leigh said, at louder-than-normal volume, “Well, she was a bitch.”
“Leigh!” Gwen said. She couldn’t help but laugh.
“What? She was. So uncaring. ‘First, do no harm.’ Isn’t that in their oath? Her very presence did me harm.”
Gwen kept laughing, pleasantly surprised at her ability to do so.
“‘Formula situation,’” Leigh muttered. “What a cunt.”
“Leigh!”
Leigh shrugged. “Sorry not sorry.”
The word continued to roll around inside Gwen’s brain—cunt, cunt, cunt. She was in near hysterics, while Leigh sat with her arms crossed.
“Listen, this is bullshit,” Leigh said. “You are going to feed your baby how you want to feed your baby. End of story.”
There was something seductive about Leigh’s resolve, though Gwen wasn’t sure how realistic it was. She didn’t have the energy to google herself down rabbit holes of information about recovery from severe mastitis. She was afraid of the message boards full of bad news, all the women before her who had had to accept their formula fates.
“Jeff’s gonna bring my pump. I’ll see what my left boob has to offer. Pump and dump while I’m on the antibiotics.”
Leigh nodded. Unlike Jeff, she was following along with the plan easily.
