Isla cries as she inspects every little inch of our girl and clasps onto her tiny finger. I’m quick to lean down to get a better view and kiss Isla’s cheek.
“Nora Madden is here,” she whispers.
I’m taken aback by the name. It’s perfect. Our daughter gets my last name and a first name of the hurricane that brought Isla and I together.
Isla glances at me with a laugh and tears drying on her face. “What? You think she will ever ask how she got that name?”
* * *
It wasa tranquil couple days in the hospital with visitors, help from the staff, and we didn’t need to stay any longer. I’m positive Nora was the best baby there too. I also got to rest her little cheek against my bare chest because apparently that’s good for oxytocin and bonding. Basically, it was nothing like I expected or could imagine.
Everything is better, a fog of bliss but unreal. It's only just sinking in that we had a little baby that we took home in my car. One day Nora wasn't here, then suddenly she is.
Returning home, the house now feels different. I notice that our friends must have been here. There is a balloon on the kitchen counter next to wrapped food. A few of the baby things that are for the living area are all set up, including that Scandinavian highchair with a newborn insert that everyone raved about.
I set the car seat down at the bottom of the stairs, and Isla lets out a sigh. “Finally, back home.”
“You should probably rest, you warrior you,” I recommend.
Isla doesn’t tear her sight away from Nora. “What if I miss something?”
I chortle a laugh. “You can’t not sleep for the rest of your life.”
Isla bounces her head side to side in consideration. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’ll carry her upstairs. You’ll be okay with the stairs?”
“I’m fine.”
When we reach the top of the stairs, Isla directs me to her room. “I want her to sleep with me in the co-sleeper. It will be easier to feed her at night when she wakes, and I don’t like the idea of her all alone in the nursery yet. She’s still so tiny and might get scared.”
It feels like we are taking a step back since Isla seems to be returning to her room to sleep. It perhaps makes sense considering our circumstances.
But despite what’s going on with us, I’m putting my foot down.
“She’s not sleeping in your room.”
“Oh yes she is, Vaughn,” Isla challenges, with her hand on her hip with her sass clearly recovering well.
It causes me to smirk. “It’s my decision, considering our timeline of events, or rather my lack of being on board for that timeline of events. You can both sleep in my room.”
"You didn't think to bring up the sleeping arrangement topic in, let's say… the hospital, the car ride, or up these freaking stairs?" Isla seems taken aback. “Uhm…” She doesn’t know what to say.
“I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll move the bassinet thing that attaches to the bed.”
“A co-sleeper,” she corrects me. “Or we can use the baby nest.” Her palm flies up to stop me. "Wait… I don't think this is a great idea. I'm… my body is kind of, well…" Her hand outlines her breasts and heads lowers with awkwardness. "l… there are liquids coming out of my… body." She draws out the uncomfortable sentence.
I look at her, unfazed. "And? I just saw you push out a baby. I think we're good." Her eyes nearly turn into saucers from surprise or the fact that it's no big deal to me. “I don’t want to miss anything, and soon I need to get back to work. Remember I said I want to come home and be able to check on her when I want. That means slipping into bed and she’s nearby.”And you’re nearby.
Isla seems to be in contemplation. “It’s… okay, uhm, limitations are clearly not us.”
I lift the handle of the car seat, already prepared to direct this discussion straight to my room. “You’re going to agree.” I pretty much demand it.
Now a smirk plays on Isla’s lips. “Fine. But she needs her dreamcatcher from the nursery for above the bed. I’m superstitious.”
“Okay. Done.”
She nods before slowly walking to my room to climb into bed to rest with our daughter nearby.
