CHAPTER 28
NOAH
The sound of my baby daughter in need snaps me to attention and I’m on my feet and moving towards her in an instant.
“Stay there,” I call to Lucy over my shoulder, “I’ll bring her to you.”
I whisper sweet nothings in her ear, keeping my voice low and soothing, while I hurry to unbuckle the straps of her carrier. I tell her how beautiful she is, how sweet, while I reassure her that mamma is going to feed her right away. I cradle my daughter against my chest gliding smoothly back in Lucy’s direction. She looks as tired as I feel–likely more so with all her body has been through the last few days, but she’s nonetheless beaming as she reaches out to take the baby from my arms. We make the pass off surprisingly smoothly and my inner dad praises our parenting skills. Point one for us! Wesogot this.
“One second, kitten,” I call, doubling back to grab the breastfeeding pillow only to realize that, in my excitement earlier, I’d forgotten it and the diaper bag in the car. Negative point for me. It might take some time to get used to travelling with all that gear, but I know we’ll get there. I rush outside to grab what we need and then help to get her settled on the pillow. Lucy sucks in a sharp breath, her face pinching in pain when the baby latches.
I frown.
“Fuck, it really hurts for like … the first five seconds.”
“And then it’s okay?” I ask as her face smooths out.
She nods. “Yeah, after that it’s actually pretty pleasurable.” She sighs. “There’s a bit of a high. Like … a release. It’s kinda like the feeling you get when you finally empty a really full bladder.”
I chuckle. “That’s because you’re emptying a really full milk duct. And your system is also being flooded with good hormones like oxytocin to make you happy and assist with bonding.”
She rolls her eyes. “I forgot you’ve read everything ever written about pregnancy and babies.”
“I like to stay informed.”
“Mm-hmm.”
There are dark circles under her eyes, but she’s beautiful as she watches our daughter feed. Light practically shines from her face while she gazes lovingly at our little girl. For a moment, I flash back to that night, only days ago, when I’d arrived in her hospital room and instantly taken in the mood. I’d met Lucy’s eyes and seen the fear there, but also the relief at my arrival, and had promised myself at that moment that no matter what happened I would remain strong for her. I’d trembled with terror, though, in the room down the hall while I’d clumsily changed into scrubs. And had had to take a moment to steel myself before I was able to open the door and indicate to the nurse that I was ready.
I’d held Lucy’s hand throughout the surgery, reassuring her–and myself–over and over again that everything would be okay. Willing it to be so. Determined that I would not be proven a liar. And I wasn’t, thank the Lord. All that anxiety, that fear, was instantly washed away at the sound of that first cry. And then, when the doctor held up my daughter and I saw her for the first time? That little wet squirming figure? Well, my chest had both tightened and expanded all at once, and I knew, at that moment, that it was my heart making space for her. It had swelled with love and pride for both of my girls and my eyes had burned with joyful tears. It’s an experience I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.
Looking at my little girl now I’m struck with disbelief that any parent could ever look at their child with anything other than utter amazement. My heart hurts at the thought of it. For myself, and the disinterest and distain I felt from my parents; for Lucy and the abandonment she felt from hers.
Our daughter will never feel anything but loved.
Lucy switches her to the other breast and before long she’s burping her against her shoulder. I move back to the bag on the counter to grab a burp cloth, but the sound of car doors slamming outside snags my attention.
I’ve been so caught up with my girls I completely forgot.
The doorbell rings.
“Who’s that?” Lucy asks.
“Well …” I hedge, “You know how our friends have been harassing us about meeting the baby? I sort of thought maybe we’d just get it all over with in one shot. And I figured what better place to do it than here. Kind of a … little celebration.”
She nibbles thoughtfully on her lip just as the bell rings again.
“But I know how tired you are, and how badly you wanted to get home before. I completely understand if you’re ready to leave. I can just tell them to go and we’ll do it another time.”
She lets out a long breath, but her eyes are twinkling when they meet mine and her lips curve up in a smile. “Let them in.”
“You sure?”
She nods. “Yeah. I mean, how could we possibly keep them away from this adorableness any longer?” she asks, readjusting our little girl against her chest.
I huff out a laugh, moving down the hall to answer the door. Piper shoves her way through before I can even open it fully, shouting, “let me at her,” as she rushes towards the back of the house. Aidan is slower to enter, though not by much, and he chuckles at the squealing that ensues as his wife enters the kitchen.
“Oh my God she’s so precious!” we hear, and Aidan claps me on the back murmuring, “congrats.” He holds up a six-pack of beer and a box of cigars. “We don’t have to smoke ‘em,” he adds with a shrug. “They’re symbolic.”
