"Baby" Chapter 3
This is a brief installment. And I mean very brief! But despite a serious writer's block I figured I'd better add to and post this little smidgeon so people wouldn't think I'd totally abandoned the story. I thought I had, but I guess I haven't and will try to work through the blankness and come up with a resolution. Please be patient OR if you're a writer and want to play tag team and take up the tale, contact me BonnieD at bondav40@yahoo.com.
*********
Ryan opened bleary eyes and tried to focus on the restless, snuffling creature lying next to him. What the hell did it want now?
Over the past eight hours he had changed, fed, burped, walked, rocked, and yes, even sung to the little bugger. Ryan had only managed a few hours sleep the whole night and, since he wasn't by nature a morning person anyway, he was definitely not ready to welcome the new day. But Baby would not be denied and was rapidly ramping up to a full throttle wail.
Sighing, Ryan sat up and lifted the infant into his arms - again. Checked the diaper - again. Put the baby to his shoulder and patted its back - again. Then he rose and headed to the house to make another bottle and to see if anyone else was up yet.
"Hey," Kirsten said, as he entered the kitchen. She was pulling mugs from the cupboard while the coffeemaker percolated cheerfully away.
"Hey," he mumbled, reaching for a can of formula on the counter.
Kirsten glanced at him and smiled sympathetically. "Rough night?"
"A little," he admitted.
"Let me take him," she said, watching Ryan try to fill a bottle one handed. He gratefully surrendered the baby to her.
"Hi, sweetheart," she cooed. He gurgled happily and grabbed at her face. "It's easy to forget that babies are little imps hidden in angel skins," Kirsten continued, intercepting the grab and kissing the baby's miniature fist. "Seth never gave me a moment's peace from the day he was born until he learned how to read and could finally entertain himself for more than two minutes at a time. And, of course, he never stopped talking since he learned how to put words together."
"He does love to hear himself talk," Ryan agreed, placing the bottle in the microwave and setting the timer.
"Who?" Seth demanded, bounding into the kitchen. "Dad? It's the curse of the lawyer. There's nothing they enjoy more then pontificating, unless it's orating or spouting rhetoric. That's my dad! I'm glad I don't suffer from long windedness. People should know when less is more, you know?"
Ryan and Kirsten exchanged an amused glance. Seth moved toward his mom and gave the baby's cheek a friendly pinch, for which he received a baleful glare.
"I know what you mean, dude," Seth said. "I have a grandma in New York who's a cheek pincher and I hate it, too. Sorry." He turned to Ryan and cleared his throat nervously. "So, big day, huh? Want me to come with?"
Ryan shrugged. "Sure." Again he was torn between wanting his friend's support and feeling overwhelmed at the idea of dealing with his crisis while listening to Seth's steady babble. "If you want."
"I want," Seth assured. His voice suddenly took on the most serious tone Ryan had ever heard him use. "And hey, I, uh, just want you to know that however this comes out you're not alone." He flushed with embarrassment at his own gravity and quickly turned his attention to removing the twist tie from the bagel bag.
Kirsten confirmed the sentiment with a brief nod and smile at Ryan, as she continued to jostle the irritable baby in her arms.
Ryan felt his own face grow warm at the show of support. "Thanks," he mumbled unintelligibly. Just then the microwave timer pinged and he gratefully turned to take the bottle out and test the warmth of the liquid.
"All right," Seth said, briskly slapping his bagel halves into the toaster. "'Nuf maudlin sharing so early in the morning. Anyone besides me want a bagel? 'Cause there's only one of the cinnamon-raisin left, then we have to break into the bran muffins mom bought when she was on one of her health conscious kicks."
"There's nothing wrong with the bran muffins, Seth. You haven't even tried them," Kirsten began with a grimace.
"I haven't tried stewed prunes either but then I'm not in the geriatric ward yet," he answered sweetly.
As the daily banter flowed comfortably around him, Ryan took the baby back from Kirsten and began feeding him. The little guy stared up at him with black button eyes and a concentrated frown as he sucked furiously on the bottle. Its little hands flailed the air for a moment then settled with one small fist grasping Ryan's shirtfront, twisting the material, and the other clutching the bottle.
With a sudden click something shifted and moved inside Ryan. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and his throat seemed to swell shut so he could hardly swallow. In the tumultuous past twenty-some hours one thing had never occurred to him. Not really. Not to the point where it held any resonance for him. But it hit him now with the force of a dump truck. This could be his child. His son.
The revelation was overwhelming, creepy, horrible, outrageous, but also somehow, in some warped way, wonderful. He felt an unexpected surge of emotion and wondered if this was what they meant when they talked about bonding.
To be continued....
This is a brief installment. And I mean very brief! But despite a serious writer's block I figured I'd better add to and post this little smidgeon so people wouldn't think I'd totally abandoned the story. I thought I had, but I guess I haven't and will try to work through the blankness and come up with a resolution. Please be patient OR if you're a writer and want to play tag team and take up the tale, contact me BonnieD at bondav40@yahoo.com.
*********
Ryan opened bleary eyes and tried to focus on the restless, snuffling creature lying next to him. What the hell did it want now?
Over the past eight hours he had changed, fed, burped, walked, rocked, and yes, even sung to the little bugger. Ryan had only managed a few hours sleep the whole night and, since he wasn't by nature a morning person anyway, he was definitely not ready to welcome the new day. But Baby would not be denied and was rapidly ramping up to a full throttle wail.
Sighing, Ryan sat up and lifted the infant into his arms - again. Checked the diaper - again. Put the baby to his shoulder and patted its back - again. Then he rose and headed to the house to make another bottle and to see if anyone else was up yet.
"Hey," Kirsten said, as he entered the kitchen. She was pulling mugs from the cupboard while the coffeemaker percolated cheerfully away.
"Hey," he mumbled, reaching for a can of formula on the counter.
Kirsten glanced at him and smiled sympathetically. "Rough night?"
"A little," he admitted.
"Let me take him," she said, watching Ryan try to fill a bottle one handed. He gratefully surrendered the baby to her.
"Hi, sweetheart," she cooed. He gurgled happily and grabbed at her face. "It's easy to forget that babies are little imps hidden in angel skins," Kirsten continued, intercepting the grab and kissing the baby's miniature fist. "Seth never gave me a moment's peace from the day he was born until he learned how to read and could finally entertain himself for more than two minutes at a time. And, of course, he never stopped talking since he learned how to put words together."
"He does love to hear himself talk," Ryan agreed, placing the bottle in the microwave and setting the timer.
"Who?" Seth demanded, bounding into the kitchen. "Dad? It's the curse of the lawyer. There's nothing they enjoy more then pontificating, unless it's orating or spouting rhetoric. That's my dad! I'm glad I don't suffer from long windedness. People should know when less is more, you know?"
Ryan and Kirsten exchanged an amused glance. Seth moved toward his mom and gave the baby's cheek a friendly pinch, for which he received a baleful glare.
"I know what you mean, dude," Seth said. "I have a grandma in New York who's a cheek pincher and I hate it, too. Sorry." He turned to Ryan and cleared his throat nervously. "So, big day, huh? Want me to come with?"
Ryan shrugged. "Sure." Again he was torn between wanting his friend's support and feeling overwhelmed at the idea of dealing with his crisis while listening to Seth's steady babble. "If you want."
"I want," Seth assured. His voice suddenly took on the most serious tone Ryan had ever heard him use. "And hey, I, uh, just want you to know that however this comes out you're not alone." He flushed with embarrassment at his own gravity and quickly turned his attention to removing the twist tie from the bagel bag.
Kirsten confirmed the sentiment with a brief nod and smile at Ryan, as she continued to jostle the irritable baby in her arms.
Ryan felt his own face grow warm at the show of support. "Thanks," he mumbled unintelligibly. Just then the microwave timer pinged and he gratefully turned to take the bottle out and test the warmth of the liquid.
"All right," Seth said, briskly slapping his bagel halves into the toaster. "'Nuf maudlin sharing so early in the morning. Anyone besides me want a bagel? 'Cause there's only one of the cinnamon-raisin left, then we have to break into the bran muffins mom bought when she was on one of her health conscious kicks."
"There's nothing wrong with the bran muffins, Seth. You haven't even tried them," Kirsten began with a grimace.
"I haven't tried stewed prunes either but then I'm not in the geriatric ward yet," he answered sweetly.
As the daily banter flowed comfortably around him, Ryan took the baby back from Kirsten and began feeding him. The little guy stared up at him with black button eyes and a concentrated frown as he sucked furiously on the bottle. Its little hands flailed the air for a moment then settled with one small fist grasping Ryan's shirtfront, twisting the material, and the other clutching the bottle.
With a sudden click something shifted and moved inside Ryan. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and his throat seemed to swell shut so he could hardly swallow. In the tumultuous past twenty-some hours one thing had never occurred to him. Not really. Not to the point where it held any resonance for him. But it hit him now with the force of a dump truck. This could be his child. His son.
The revelation was overwhelming, creepy, horrible, outrageous, but also somehow, in some warped way, wonderful. He felt an unexpected surge of emotion and wondered if this was what they meant when they talked about bonding.
To be continued....