Angel opened the door, and there stood Don, his face concealed as much as possible by the hood of his sweatshirt.
"Donatello! How are you?! How are the babies?!" Angel bubbled.
"They're good," Donatello replied, purposely avoiding answering the part about himself. "How are you?"
"Just plugging along. Glad you're here now, Don. Thanks for coming." Angel ushered the turtle into her apartment and briefly scanned the hall before shutting the door.
"Happy to be here. I needed an excuse to get out of the Lair for a while," Don confided.
"Even if it's tutoring me in physics and helping to babysit my niece?" Angel wondered.
"Goodness knows I need the practice," Donatello admitted. "So, where is she?"
"She's napping in the other room. Rule number one of being around babies is that you never ever wake them up."
"Duly noted. So we start with physics and move onto babies, then?" Don proposed.
An hour later, Angel and Don were immersed in Newton's third law of motion when a small cry was heard in the next room. Angel gave a sly grin. "Looks like you're on."
Donatello gulped. "You're just going to throw me right into the fire?"
"You know what they say. We learn best by doing," Angel lectured.
"Isn't she going to freak out when she sees me?" Don worried.
"She's only three months old. Your looks won't phase her. Now quit stalling or she'll get really mad."
Don pushed himself to his feet and crept into Angel's bedroom. He then realized that this was not the time to be using ninja stealth, as he didn't want to scare the baby. "Um, hold on. We're coming," he said in a voice that he hoped sounded calming. Angel recognized the stall tactic and gave his shoulder a gentle shove that did his bad back no favors.
Don reached the pack and play and smiled gently as he took his first close-up look at a baby. "Hey," he cooed. "Hi Jasmine, I'm Don."
Jasmine was unimpressed, and only cried louder. "What? Are you waiting for her to hand you a business card or something? Just pick her up already," Angel hissed. "How would you like it if it was you crying and your caregiver just stood there and stared?"
Don wished he had a caregiver, even if it was an inept one. "I wasn't just staring," he defended. "I was being soothing."
"Quit stalling and grab that baby!" Angel insisted. "And make sure to support her head."
Don licked his lips and dove in. He slid his hands beneath Jasmine and supported her head and neck with one strong finger. "This okay?" he asked. When Angel nodded, he pulled the baby up and placed her head on his shoulder.
He had a harder time trying to maneuver Jasmine's body into a position that made sense. As usual, his embarrassingly huge belly was giving him trouble. At first, he tried to angle her up and down, but she ended up not having enough room above the large bump in his plastron, so it looked almost like she was riding on top of it. Not only was it uncomfortable for both of them, but Don was afraid that Jasmine would hit her head on the lip of his shell.
He carefully slid her down to rest horizontally against the top of his plastron, which seemed to work a little better. Don looked up to get Angel's opinion and noticed that she was trying to suppress laughter.
"I'm glad you find this funny," he snapped. Jasmine was still crying, and it was only adding to his anxiety. "I didn't laugh at you when you didn't understand physics right away!"
Angel looked chagrined and put a hand on Don's arm. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you. I was just thinking how surreal this is, that's all!"
"Well it sure looked like you were laughing to me," Don complained, suddenly feeling near tears. He hated being like this.
"Alright. I admit it did look a little funny at first, but you've got good instincts," Angel praised. "Once your own babies are born, you won't have that ginormous belly to deal with anymore, and this will look and feel a lot more natural."
Don knew his friend meant well, but it kind of stung. He was so sick of everyone pointing out how big he was. "It's not ginormous," he pouted, even though he knew better.
"Whatever you say," Angel dismissed.
"So, what's next?" Don asked, trying to get over his mini tantrum.
Angel had been prepared to coach Don on how to rock a distressed baby, but much to her surprise, he was doing it already - swinging his weight from hip to hip as he gently bounced Jasmine. She was already starting to calm down.
Angel raised her eyebrows. "Look at you! How did you know how to do that?"
Donatello looked down at himself. "What? This? I don't know. Maybe I saw it on TV or something."
"It infuriates me that you seem to automatically be good at everything," Angel huffed.
"Well, I'm an ugly, mutated freak, my family can't stand to be around me, and I live in a sewer, so don't be too jealous. Besides, I honestly have no idea what to do next."
Angel ignored the portion of Donatello's response that she could only hope was a tone-deaf attempt at self-deprecating humor. "When a baby is crying, it's generally one of four things - sleepiness, boredom, diaper, or hunger. It's best to eliminate those first," she instructed.
"She just woke up from a long nap, so… hunger?" Don guessed.
"Let's see. You keep doing what you're doing while I make a bottle."
Don kept swinging and patting Jasmine's back. He wondered if his kids would take a bottle, or if feedings would be more complicated. Unfortunately, there was no way to know until they were born. It was yet another thing to stress over.
When Angel arrived with the bottle, Don carefully sat down, then awkwardly readjusted the baby. Eventually, he found a position that would work for the feeding, and Jasmine eagerly latched onto the bottle. "How do I know if I'm doing it right?" Don asked.
"You want to make sure that her tongue is rolled around the bottom so that there's a good seal. To check, you can even pinch her cheek or lip a little and listen for the sound of a vacuum being broken. The other thing to do is just make sure there's nothing coming out of her mouth. If there is, she's not latched properly."
"So this looks good then?" Don checked.
"Yes," Angel assured. "Just make sure that her head stays raised above her body, and that she's not chewing on the bottle. Also, make sure that the tip stays full and isn't mixing with air."
Don nodded. "Got it."
"Jasmine is a pretty good eater, but she's not really a newborn anymore. Your babies will likely require a bit more work," Angel guessed.
"I know. Honestly, I'm not even sure what they'll be able to eat or drink. Store-bought bottles might not even work for them. It's good to understand the basics, though."
Don sat back and tried to get a little more comfortable. Jasmine wiggled her little fingers and placed them near the bottle, somehow managing to grasp one of Don's calloused hands.
Don's eyes widened as he gazed at the small bundle nestled in the crook of his arm. The baby stared back with interest as she continued to suckle. Holding her was so peaceful. It was an almost spiritual experience. Yet again, Don found tears springing to his eyes without warning.
"What's wrong?" Angel asked.
"Nothing. It's just… look how precious she is. She's so tiny and fragile and perfect, like a clean slate that the world hasn't tarnished yet," Don marveled.
Angel nodded in agreement. "Yup. That's a baby for you."
"And to think, I have three on the way. She feels so breakable, and mine are even smaller. What if I do something wrong? What if I ruin them somehow?" Donatello could feel his chest tightening with a potent mix of emotion and anxiety.
"That's not going to happen, Don. You won't let it," Angel said, firmly. "Look at everything that you've sacrificed for them already."
"But that doesn't mean that I'll be a good dad," Don fretted. "I… um… can you take her? I need to use the bathroom."
"Again?!" Angel balked.
Don handed off the baby and hurried away. He waddled to the bathroom and turned on the water, then bit his wrist to cover the sounds of his panic-wracked breaths and intermittent sobs. He knew that it was a hormone-induced mood swing, but that knowledge didn't do anything to help him stop it.