Music class, rhythm class, baby yoga, and a water class called newborn guppies.Multi-species moms. That’s the group for us.
She compared data, made graphs, charted out exactly what the next two months needed to look like. She identified the mothers in the parenting groups whose advice couldn’t be trusted and made a list of the ones she liked. She’d spent too many months feeling sorry for herself, fretting over what she would do once he was here, mourning the mother she never had.Acting like a spoiled brat. You’re an elf. Giving birth to an orc! Fucking act like it.
When her ankles swelled beyond recognition, her doctor decided it was time.
“We always knew you likely wouldn’t make it full-term. I think this is further than what we had discussed a year ago! You’ve done an amazing job, mama, but it’s time for this kiddo to comeout. He’s at a healthy weight and has a good heartbeat. He probably won’t even need to spend any extra time here.”
A good thing, because by then she had decided she was staying too as long as he was still a patient.And I’d like to see the nurse who’s going to make me leave.
Lurielle had always envisioned a dramatic public water breaking, being rushed into the hospital, practicinghee hee hoooobreathing techniques, a doctor announcing she was crowning right there in the hallway.
The reality had been mundane, showing up to the hospital when she was told to do so, being prepped for the delivery, too relieved to finally be getting it over with to be self-conscious as she was wheeled to surgery.
She was awake for all of it. Modern medicine was formulated for humans, one of the most detrimental elements of their society, and giving her the proper anesthesia had been a fraught situation, closely monitored, and she had been terrified.
Not that she had let on, of course, but one nightmare scenario after the next ran through her head on an endless loop throughout the entire surgical prep.What if the nerve block wears off in the middle of it? What if you can feel them cutting you? Your body is going to be split open, and you might feel every bit of it.
The anesthesiologist had been a wide-eyed huldra, peering down at her throughout the procedure, checking in to assess her alertness and pain, patting her hand encouragingly. Her fears had been for naught, and she hadn’t felt a thing. At least, not until he was placed on her chest at last after she was closed up.
The weight of him was the first thing she learned, before she discovered how soft his tufty little shock of black hair was, how satiny smooth his pale green skin was, before she learned the shape of him in her arms. Before she learned the way he fitagainst her like a puzzle piece, as if he’d always been meant to be there.
Solid and strong, his little face screwed up in a yowl, his jaw seemingly too tiny for something that would someday accommodate tusks.
“Hi, Kael,” she whispered, belatedly realizing the first thing her son was going to feel was her tears.Tears, and you snotting on his head, probably.
She learned him by sound almost immediately thereafter.
“Listen to that boy cry,” Khash had said against her temple, chuckling through his own tears. “Listen to how strong he is, Bluebell.Youdid that.”
Her body’s response to his cry that first day he was born had been immediate, and it had not lessened in the month since they’d been home.
The pitch of his hunger was sharp enough to cut through sleep, and oftentimes, her eyes would pop open just a breath before his lusty wail split the night. Lurielle already knew about the way her body would respond to his cries; she understood it from a scientific level, understood the chemical releases that caused it, read first-person accounts from the mothers in the groups she had joined . . . but all of her academic preparation hadn’t prepared her for the reality.
She would wake with a gasp every single time, no matter if it was the middle of the night or mid-afternoon, her adrenaline spiking, pushing her to go to him,now now now!Her skin would flush, a red stain heating her neck and down her chest, the room feeling so hot that she could barely stand it. Her milk would let down in a rush, her body tripping over itself to sate and soothe him.
A full month in, and she was only just beginning to temper her reactions, rather than treating every feeding as if it were an emergency. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called out laughingly,crossing the short distance to his cradle from her bed, her feet stuffed into her slippers. “Are you always going to be this impatient? You’re going to have to learn some manners someday, little boy.”
He began rooting immediately, the instant she sank into the relocated rocking chair, opening her lounge top and settling him against her breast. Tiny green hands opened and closed desperately, squeezing whatever they could grasp, mouthing against her with a frantic urgency that made her laugh under her breath every time. He was desperate for food, no matter how many times a day she nursed him, no matter how often he was fed from the bottle. An appetite like his father’s, she had no doubt he, too, would someday order a whole porterhouse for dessert. He settled onto her once he latched, fingers still flexing, tugging her tender skin in rhythm to his sucking.
Lurielle bent, huffing against his head, her new drug of choice. She was obsessed with the milky-sweet smell of him, his softness, his healthy solidity.You can do this, the heft of him seemed to encourage.You’re doing great. The creak of the rocking chair was solid and steady, a sound that signified peace, freedom from any other obligation that wasn’t the weight of him in her arms, permission to not think about any of the decisions regarding the near future that lay in wait.
It had only been a month. She reminded herself of that regularly.
Only a month and they had barely left the house. She hadn’t had to deal with anything actually complicated yet. Hadn’t had to face illness or separation anxiety, schoolwork or bullies, hadn’t even had to face whether or not she would make friends in the mommy groups she was planning on joining.
She had barely had a taste of motherhood at this point, and sheknewthat. Even still, Lurielle couldn’t help the way she felt.
She was fucking crushing this.
They had settled into a routine almost immediately. Khash was holding off on taking his paternity leave until she went back to work, something they had agreed upon long ago. She was home with the baby all day, Khash relieving her the instant he stepped over the threshold each evening, scooping Kael out of her arms before she could even protest. She didn’t begrudge him. He was just as eager to bond as she had been in those first few hours, and her arms would be empty the rest of the night.
There had been a human lactation specialist visiting the day before they had been released, popping her head into Lurielle’s room to introduce herself and ask if Lurielle had any questions.
“The goal is, of course, being able to—”
“Keep my baby fed and healthy, by whatever means we require,” she had cut in with a tight smile. “Yes, I know.”
The woman’s smile had faltered, leaving after a moment when it was clear the conversation was over.
