Title: This Thing About Birthdays
Author: Andrea
Rating: Still R
Summary: She's having a baby. Still. But the little fucker will fall out in this chapter, I promise.
Author's Note: So, yeah, this chapter has been done for days, but due to the pitiful review situation, I've been withholding it. Also, there was an editing snafu. But even if there hadn't been … if you want more of these chapters that take days and days to write, taking the two minutes to review would be highly appreciated. And for those of you who are wondering, ADL and FAWH are going to be continued. Some time soon. Probably. Thanks to Courtney and Kelly for reading and advising. And for laughing and crying and telling me about it. Thanks to my flock of steady reviewers. I would name names, but I'd be sure to leave someone out, so I'll just stick with thanks to all of you. That means you, too, Lanie. Enjoy this one. With any luck, you'll laugh, you'll cry … or maybe not. And no, this isn't the last chapter. This isn't even the last chapter of part ii. But if you want the next one soon, you know what to do.
This Thing About Birthdays
Part II
Chapter 12: A Whole New World
"Okay, Abby," My unnecessarily cheerful nurse says, "Whenever you're ready, you can start pushing."
Whenever I'm ready? Well, how about next week? If I could go home and sleep, maybe eat, just relax for a while, I'd be glad to come back later.
"Why don't we give it a try with the next contraction?" Miss Perpetually Perky asks. What happened to whenever I'm ready?
"No, no, no." I say, shaking my head against the pillow. But no one seems to be paying any attention to me. And why should they? I'm just the one giving birth. But they seem to have forgotten my part in all this. Carter is so excited he's practically bouncing out of his sneakers. Susan seems to be on the verge of tears while she rubs her hands together in gleeful anticipation. Nurse Perky looks excited too. And, I guess, why shouldn't they? There isn't a basketball trying to get out of any of them.
"I'm not ready. I'm not ready." I tell them.
"You don't have much choice, Abby." John says. "You have to do it sooner or later. Come on, don't you want to see the baby?" Gee, thanks for the understanding. Screw you, Carter.
"Mom?" In a very weird turn of events, I find myself turning more and more to Maggie for reassurance. After all, she's been through this. And she seems to be the most sympathetic to my needs at the moment. Normally, it's Carter that brings me comfort just by his very presence. But right now, he's so excited about the baby that sometimes I think he forgets what I'm going through. Of course, I want to see the baby; of course, I'm excited to meet this little person. But I'm the one doing all the work here. I'm the one in all the pain. I know he's trying to be encouraging, but sometimes it just feels pushy.
"It's okay, Abby. Take your time." Mom says. "There'll always be another contraction. But … the sooner you start, the sooner you can get this over with." She has point there.
"I'm scared." I whisper. Maggie wraps her arms around my head and pulls me close to her so she can kiss the top of my head.
"Of course you are. But you have to do it anyway."
"Abby?" John picks up my hand. "You're gonna be okay. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."
I lay back and close my eyes, trying to gain some … strength? Courage? Maybe get in touch with the insane side of myself that wanted to do this in the first place? I'm not intending to push with the next contraction, but when the pain starts, this time accompanied by a shitload of pressure, I change my mind. My body is telling me that it's time to push. Time to get this baby out.
"I wanna push." I say. Several sets of hands eagerly help me to get into a position with better leverage and the nurse gives me the instructions I don't need.
"Chin to your chest. Push from your bottom."
So I put my chin to my chest and push. And nothing much happens. But then again it was a half-assed effort. Even I know that. I need to push out this elephant inside of me, and I'm pushing like I need to fart. Kinda like trying to shovel six feet of snow with a teaspoon.
"Abby. You can do better than that." Carter tells me.
"You wanna get up here and try it? When was the last time you crapped out a bowling ball?"
"Why don't you just try again?" He asks.
I nod, but lay back, deciding to wait for the next contraction. I don't have long to wait. Okay, let's do this right. I take a deep breath and put my chin back down on my chest and push. Really push. Everyone starts counting. As slow as humanly possible, I think. As soon as they get to ten, I blow out the breath.
"Again." The nurse says. What? Is she nuts? But I know the drill, so I gulp down another breath of air and push like I mean it. Like I'm actually trying to get something out of me. "Good Abby. That's good. Keep going." Keep going? Yeah, I no longer need to breathe. And don't worry about the pain. Oh. Ouch. Ouch. OUCH. Owww … what the fuck? This can't be right.
"AAAAHHH!!" I didn't mean to scream, but it just kind of happens when a Buick is trying to pass its way through a very small hole in your body.
"Oh God …" I moan, collapsing against the bed. "What the hell is going on? Is this kid wearing a football helmet?"
Carter chuckles and then immediately apologizes. "Sorry." He says.
"You should be. This thing inside of me obviously has your big, fat head." He laughs again. "I'm serious. It's huge. It's too big. I'll never get it out."
"Of course you will." Susan says. "You really moved it down with that push. You're gonna do just fine."
"Oh, crap. Here comes another one." I say, ending the debate as it's time to try and squeeze this thing out again. More pushing. More pain. Lots of pressure. Lots of pressure. Lots of stretching. In places that I was never especially anxious to stretch. Of course, I know that women's bodies are designed to stretch like this, and we are made to give birth … but still … the whole thing is starting to seem ridiculous to me. I know all too well how big a newborn's head is. And I know how big my vagina is. And the two just aren't matching up somehow. I don't care how compressed the baby's head is. I don't care how much my body can stretch. It's insane. I moan and grunt my way through this push and then collapse back against the pillows. It's an impossibility. All this pressure. The pain. And the head is gigantic. I can't imagine it's going fit. I'm pushing as hard as I can and nothing's happening.
"It hurts. It really, really hurts. It's too big. It's not gonna fit."
"Of course it is, Abby." John tells me. "When you're pushing, the baby moves down really far. If it wasn't gonna fit, the baby never would have moved down this far."
"What if it gets stuck?"
"It's not gonna get stuck, Ab." Carter says.
"It could. These things happen all the time. A baby that's too big for the pelvis … shoulder dystocia. I'm not that big, you know. What if it doesn't fit?"
"Ab …" Carter starts.
"What makes you think the baby is too big?" Maggie asks.
"Because it feels like it's huge!"
"I'll bet everybody feels that way, Abby." Carter says.
"I know I did." Maggie tells me. "You felt like a freight train. I thought for sure you would weigh twelve pounds."
"This one must weigh fifteen." I don't think they believe me. They also seem unconcerned about the fact that every time I try to push out this baby, I feel like I'm tearing myself in half. Nope, no need to worry about that. Nevertheless, I keep working on this pushing thing and they all seem impressed with my progress. I feel like I'm not getting anywhere -- after all, the baby is still lodged in there -- but they assure me that the baby is moving right along.
Just about the time Coburn comes strolling in, I crap out. I've had enough. I hurt everywhere. I'm nauseous …or maybe hungry. I'm hot. I'm sweaty. I'm thirsty. And I'm so tired.
"Abby," Dr. Coburn says, "I hear you're doing well with the pushing." If they say so … it feels like a whole lot of wasted effort to me.
"I don't know." I tell her.
"Well, why don't you show me what you can do with the next contraction?"
"I don't think I can do this anymore right now."
"Abby. Of course you can. Now how many mothers said the same thing to you when you were on the other side of gurney? Most of them, am I right? And you didn't listen. You told them to stick with it. Now it's your turn to be strong."
"I don't think I can." To my horror, my chin is quivering and I feel tears gathering in my eyes.
"Hey, Abby." Susan says. "Stop your whining and suck it up."
"It hurts! When was the last time you had a baby?"
"Well, I'll bet I could do a better job than you."
"Blow it out your ass, Susan!" Who the hell invited her anyway?
"No, that's your job, dummy. Come on, Abby … what's it gonna take to light a fire under you?" Oh, now I get what she was doing. It pissed me off, but it didn't exactly inspire me to shove this baby out.
"I just … I …"
"Abby." My mom. "Look at me." She puts her hand under my chin and turns my face toward hers. "Listen, sweetie, I know you're tired. And I know you're hurting. But the only way to make it go away is to get the baby out. And you have to do it. And you can. You can do anything. You're so strong."
"But, Mom …"
"Well, if you won't do it for yourself, do it for your baby. The baby wants to come out Abby. It's ready to be born. But it needs your help. You have to do it for the baby. You know it's better if you do it on your own … you don't want them helping you out with their … instruments, do you?" Forceps. The vacuum. Not on my baby's head. The baby. With all this pain and … 'discomfort,' I almost forgot that there's a light at the end of this tunnel. A reward. A big reward. A baby. My baby. And Maggie's right. It's not any easier on the baby than it is on me. Okay. Have to do this for the baby.
"Okay." I say. I can feel the contraction starting so I get into position, pulling my knees back and curling myself around my swollen belly. Chin to my chest, I bear down and push with all that I have. I'm grunting and growling with the effort, but no more screaming. I'm trying my best to save all that energy for the pushing.
"Okay, Abby. Stop." Janet says.
"Oh my God, Abby." John says. "That's amazing. The head is right there. Look. I can see our baby's head. And it has red hair!" Well, stop the presses.
"That's nice." I say as I'm panting and gasping for breath. But he could have told me the baby had blue hair, and I don't think I really would have cared right now.
"That was good, Abby. Really, good. But don't push now. Just breathe." Dr. Coburn instructs.
Oh sure, now she wants me to stop. Does she know what this feels like? The pressure is incredible. I feel like I'm about to explode. And she wants me to just hold this thing between my legs, this enormous thing, in there? I want it out. I want to push. I need to push. I lay back and try to concentrate on my breathing -- panting -- while they are all making their preparations. Why didn't they get ready before? What did they think I was doing here? Didn't they know that a baby was trying to get out of me?
"Carter? You catching?" Coburn asks. He looks at me. Asking me. I nod. He leans over and kisses my forehead, tells me that he loves me and that I'm beautiful, before literally placing my hand in Susan's. Turning over the reins, I guess. Yes, I want him to be the one to guide our baby into the world. But I also want him to hurry up. I can't hold on much longer.
"You're doing so good, honey." Mom says. "Almost there."
"Abby." John calls from the end of the bed, all gowned up and ready, Dr. Coburn standing by his side. "Look. Look in the mirror." So I look in the mirror that's positioned behind him.
"Oh, God." The tears spring to my eyes when I realize he wasn't kidding. The baby really is right there. Crowning indeed.
"Reach down here." He says. I free my hand from Susan, and reach out for John's. Together we touch our child for the first time. A slimy little red-haired head. It takes my breath away.
"Oh." My voice breaks on that one syllable.
"That's our baby." There are tears in his voice too. "You ready to meet her?" I can only nod. "Okay, another good push, just like the last one, and she'll be here." She? He's still sure it's a girl, I guess. We'll find out soon.
I take a deep breath and with my mother and my best friend supporting me, holding me up, holding me together, I push. It hurts. It burns. I feel like I'm being stretched beyond my limits and tearing to shreds. But I keep pushing. Susan and Maggie counting in my ears.
"Good, Abby. Good. Head's halfway out. A little more … okay, stop." Dr. Carter is in the room now. I open my eyes and look in the mirror, then down between my legs, getting a first look at my baby's face. Oh. Oh my God. It's beautiful. Clearly, this is the most beautiful child ever.
"Oh my God, I'm having a baby." I gasp out. John looks up at me with tears in his eyes after having suctioned out the baby's mouth and nose.
"Trying to cry already." Coburn comments, watching over Carter's shoulder. For the first time, I hear the sound of my child. Wow.
"Give me a little push." I push and the shoulders come out. John holds the baby right there, not pulling it all the way out just yet. "Give me your hands, Abby." John tells me. I reach down. And as soon as the baby is halfway out, I slip my hands under my child's arms, pulling and pushing at the same time to help my child to be born.
And then suddenly, the baby is born. It's finally here. Outside of my body. My hands and John's hands wrapped around this tiny little person. We lift the baby on to my bare, suddenly-empty stomach, and for the first time I feel the weight of my child in my arms. My baby is born. I feel its warm skin against mine, I hear it crying over the ordeal its just been through. I'm already crying uncontrollably myself, but for once, I don't want to stop. Through my tears, I sigh in relief. For myself. For the baby. It's official. I'm a mommy. Oh my God.
"4:57." I hear Dr. Coburn say. Time of birth. Yep, got a baby in plenty of time for dinner.
The nurse has put blankets over the baby and is vigorously rubbing its back, encouraging the crying that will get the lungs working up to their potential, and also helping to dry the baby off. She puts a stretchy little cap on the baby's head, covering up that red hair, and keeping the baby warm. On either side of me, my mom and Susan are crying. I look down and John is relinquishing his spot to Dr. Coburn. And he's crying, too, of course.
"We have a baby." I say to him. Incredible. Is this thing squirming around on my belly really mine?
"Yeah. A baby." He says it with the same breathless, awestruck, tearful voice that I'm using. He grins at me. And then asks, "What do we have, Abby?" Oh yeah, I guess we forgot to look. I peek under the blankets and lift one of the baby's legs to see who's there.
"It's a girl." I say, sobbing harder. I don't know why. I would have been just as happy with a boy. But a girl. A daughter. I'm the mother of a little girl. Wow. There just aren't any words. I hold the baby against me with one arm, and stroke her little cheek with my other hand. She's beautiful. Absolutely the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And worth it. So worth it. My baby girl.
"A girl." Carter says, sounding about as bewildered as I feel. "It's a girl!" He exclaims happily. "We have a little girl. See? I told you." He leans over and kisses me lightly on the lips. "I love you." He leans down and kisses the baby. "And I love you too, little girl." He looks back at me and sniffles, making me cry even harder. Damn hormones never quit.
"Are you ready to cut the cord?" Dr. Coburn asks. There's some shifting of the baby, turning her over onto her back. And then Janet affixes the clamps to the baby's umbilical cord. "We're doing cord blood, right?" She asks. Cord blood, storing the stem cells from the blood that is left in the umbilical cord. It can be used later if, God forbid, the baby should fall sick. Her own cells would be used to fight against disease. With Carter's family history of leukemia and my family history of who-knows-what, it seemed like a wise decision.
"Yeah." John tells Coburn, who begins making the necessary preparation to collect the cord blood. And then John is there with the scissors in his hand. He leans over me, places one hand under the baby's back and then carefully cuts through the umbilical cord. And just like that, we're free. Two separate people now, our physical attachment severed in an instant. I can only hope that our other bonds won't break so easily.
"I'm gonna take her and weigh her and get her cleaned up, okay?" The nurse asks, lifting the baby off of me. Oh, bring her back. I want her back. God, how many times did I plunk someone else's baby into the air and run off with it, delighting in the thrill of a newborn in my arms, anxious to go through the rituals. Too many times to count. And I never once thought about how hard it might be for the mom to watch some virtual stranger cart her newly-born infant halfway across the room. "I'll be right back with her." She assures me. I nod, and rest my head back against the pillow. John goes with the baby, slipping his finger in her tiny little fist.
The next few minutes are a flurry of activity. Dr. Coburn is busy tending to the rest of the processes in this whole giving birth thing. The afterbirth slides out and the cord blood collection gets started by some new person who has appeared in the room. Janet pokes around for awhile and finds two 'tiny' tears that she needs to stitch up, allowing me the pleasure of a needle stick to numb me up. But to be honest, I probably feel it a lot less than I normally would. After all, I've got plenty of distractions. My mom is hugging me, congratulating me, telling me what a good job I did. Susan is snapping pictures. I'm not sure exactly what point she started taking those pictures, and I'm a little worried about what she might have caught on film or with the video camera that's floating around somewhere. But I'll have to worry about that later. Right now, we're all crying, the baby included. The room is pretty much in chaos. Organized chaos, but still chaos nonetheless. But at the moment, it's all only half noticed by me.
Because there's only one thing I can truly concentrate on. I only have eyes for one person now. My little girl. Just a few feet away on the baby warmer, getting her footprints done, leaving her footprints on her daddy's t-shirt, right over his heart. And then the nurse picks her up and plops her on the scale.
"I'm telling you," I say, "she's heavy." Boy, is she. Not even having held her properly in my arms, I know she's no petite little thing. That seven pound estimate (which, I was warned, could be off by a pound either way) from my check up less than a week ago, was clearly wrong.
"21 inches long," our nurse says. Oh, maybe she's gonna get her height from her father. "And the weight is … 8 lbs, 12 oz." The nurse tells us. Well, that explains a lot.
"What?" Carter says. "That can't be right."
"See for yourself." She says, stepping away from the scale so we can see the readout.
"No, it's gotta be wrong. Maybe it's calibrated wrong." Carter insists. The nurse lifts the baby off the scale, waiting until the digital display shows zero, then she puts the baby back on. Still 8 lbs, 12 oz.
"But … but. … but that's a huge baby to come out of my little Abby." Carter says.
"See?" I call across the room. "I told you. I told you just now that she was heavy. I told you all along that she was huge. But you all thought I was crazy."
"Oh, Abby," Mom says. "I'm so proud of you. You did so good. Especially considering that you gave birth to a moose. You only weighed six-something. Your brother wasn't much more. I don't know what you're doing having such a big baby."
"It was probably all that cheesecake." Susan says. "I'll remind you of that next time. No cheesecake."
I almost say that there won't be a next time, but then I look back over at the baby, being cleaned off and diapered. She gets a long sleeved t-shirt and new stretchy cap for her head now that she's all cleaned up. He little arm is waving around in the air, as if she's waving at me. Of course I know she isn't, but I wave back anyway. That's my baby over there. My daughter. Incredible. And I know in an instant that I would go through all this again, in a heartbeat, for her. Or someday, for another one just like her. Right now, I just want to hold the one that I have. I have a baby. And she's right over there. Unbelievable.
"You wanna go see, Mommy?" John coos at the baby, after he gets her all swaddled up in warm, dry blankets. He must be reading my mind. Or maybe it's the way I'm staring intently at the little bundle in his arms.
He walks carefully across the room with her and then places her gently in my arms. She's crying, but then, so am I. So is her daddy. As soon as I have her cradled in my arms, I cuddle her close to me, rocking her slightly. "Oh. Hi, sweetie. Shh … shh … it's okay, pumpkin. Mommy's here." She quiets down, stops crying and then looks up at me.
Oh God, she's so beautiful, I can't stand it. A round little face with chubby apple cheeks. Puffy, pouty little lips and a button nose. Big eyes. Blue at the moment, but a dark gray-blue that's bound to change to brown. I peek under her little cap. Huh. Sure enough, a head full of softly-curling, dark red hair. Sort of a brownish-red that will likely get darker. So it probably won't last, but it sure is something right now.
"Hi, Baby. I'm your mommy. I'm the one you've been kicking all this time. Yeah, that's me. Mommy." She's staring at me with bright, alert eyes. She can't focus yet, but it's nice to see her so seemingly aware. I smile down at her through the tears, sniffling as coo at my baby, "Mommy loves you. Yeah. I've been waiting a long time for you. Yes, I have. And I love you so much." I knew I would love her, but I didn't know it would feel like this. I'm crying even harder as I lean down and kiss her little face for the first time. Her response to is to open and close her mouth a few times and blink her little eyes at me. I cuddle her a little closer. She scrunches up her face and starts crying again.
"What? What's wrong?" She answers that question by turning her head toward my breast and rooting and nuzzling against it. How does she know? Amazing. I've held so many newborns … but until I held my own, I didn't appreciate just how extraordinary they are. She's a miracle.
"I think she's hungry." Her daddy says, looking on.
Yeah, I was getting that idea myself. Well, maybe not hungry exactly, but I would say that the instinct to suck has definitely kicked in. Oh. Okay, I know how to do this. I loosen the baby slightly from her tight wrappings before I slip my arm out of the gown. A gown that I might as well just take off at this point, now that just about everything is hanging out anyway. Then I move the baby into the proper position, supporting her weight with one of my arms resting under her. The hand that isn't under her goes behind her head. I stroke her cheek lightly with my thumb, and when she opens her mouth wide, I quickly push her head toward my breast. And she's latched on. Just like that. She immediately starts sucking and I can hear, as well as see, her swallowing. Okay, this is … kinda weird. Not bad. Not painful. But different. My body is feeding my baby. Wow. And she knows just what to do. All of ten minutes old and she's already got the essential skill of babyhood down pat. She suckles contentedly while I marvel at the wonder of all this. I look down at the sweet little face taking nourishment at my breast, and I know … I'm in love. How can I love something this little so much so soon? Because she's mine. Because she's his. Because she's ours. And, I think, she's all I've ever really wanted. Well, her … and her daddy. My little family.
"Hey, sweetie. Were you hungry?" I say, looking down at the little one in my arms. "Yeah? Is that good? You know just what to do, don't you? Mommy's smart girl, huh? You're amazing. Yes, you are. And you're gorgeous, too, you know that?" I can't stop smiling. I can't stop crying. I can't stop talking baby-talk.
"She looks like you." John says, standing at my side, peering over my shoulder.
"Really? No."
"Yes, she does." Maggie says, leaning over to get a close-up view of her granddaughter, at least in profile. "She looks just like you when you were born. Well, actually, she looks more like your brother because he had a head full of curls too." She says as she looks under the cap too, and then removes it, stroking the baby's hair. "But you and Eric looked a lot alike as babies. Of course, neither of you had this red hair. Where did that come from?" She leans over and kisses the baby's head before replacing the hat.
"The mailman." Carter says, without losing a beat. I swat at him with my free hand. "My mother," He corrects himself.
"Your mother has red hair?" I ask him.
"Sure. Sometimes. Remember Christmas?"
"I didn't know that was real." I say.
"Well, it's not now. But it was at one time. Not bright red … but dark red. Maybe … auburn? Kinda like this." He says, twirling an escaped lock of the baby's hair around his finger. Red hair runs in the family. Huh. Well maybe this stuff will stay then. We'll see.
"She really does look like you, Abby." Susan says. "Lucky for her." She gives Carter, who is now perched on the edge of my bed, a little nudge.
"Haha, Sus." He says. But he's not distracted by her comments for long, preferring instead to gaze adoringly at this little creature in my arms. He reaches over and pats the little bundle, rests his hand on her head. She pays no attention, sticking doggedly to the task at hand.
"Does she have a name?" Maggie asks.
"Yes." I say slowly, looking at John. "I think so."
"She does. I haven't changed my mind. Unless … you have?"
"No." Especially not now. If there was a time I wasn't sure, I'm sure now.
"Well, what is it?" Susan demands, apparently unable to stand the suspense.
I look at Carter. He smiles encouragingly. Then I look at the baby. Yeah, it fits. And then I look at my mom.
"Margaret." I say.
"Margaret Abigail." Carter amends. The big fight over the middle name, the fight he finally won.
"Margaret Abigail Carter. Meg." My daughter.
I watch as it registers with Maggie. Her face turning from surprise to happiness, and then dissolving into quiet tears.
"Yes," I say to the baby, "that's you. Meg. Meg Carter. What do you think, Meg? Do you like it? Do you want to go see your grandma? You are her namesake, after all." I slip a finger into the baby's -- Meg's-- mouth and break the suction. She lets my nipple loll out of her mouth and doesn't protest to being pulled away.
I hand her to her grandmother, watching the two of them together. My mother and my daughter. The woman who made me. And the child that I made. The child who made me a mother. I'd been reluctant at first to bestow Maggie's name upon my child, but the more John and I talked about it, the more it seemed right. A symbol of a new beginning for all of us? An olive branch? My chance to reach out to my mother? I don't know. But it just seemed right. And now, even more so. Maggie provided the first mother-daughter relationship in my life. A complicated, hard, tumultuous relationship. And I hope, more than anything else, that Meg will provide the antithesis of that relationship. A second chance, for me, at this whole mother-daughter thing, this time from the other side. And I just want to get it right.
All of which might make naming my daughter after my mother seem odd, to say the least. But maybe not. Maybe Meg's presence in our lives is going to be just what we need to get us back on the road to being a family. It seems to be happening already. Today, struggling to bring Meg into the world, I'd let myself lean on my mother more than I ever have before. So maybe this brand new little baby is already bringing us together. So having her share my mother's name seems appropriate somehow. Besides, Margaret means 'pearl' … and what is a pearl if not some rare treasure … some unexpected windfall? And that's my Meg. Plus, I like it. Meg. Meggie. Not too fancy. Not too popular. But not too off -the-wall either.
"Meg." Susan says. "That's cute. I like it. It's not as catchy as 'Little Susan' maybe, but it's good."
"Sorry, Sus. Maybe next time."
"Yeah, sure. That's what they all say. But as long as I still get to be Aunt Susan, I'm happy."
Aunt Susan looks like she's dying to get her hands on the baby, but Grandma doesn't seem too eager to give her up. Daddy looks like he'd like another turn. And it's been all of a minute since I turned her over, so I'm itching to take her back. I guess I should have had more than one.
Dr. Coburn and my nurse finish tending to me -- for the time being. But I know all too well that they'll be back to poke and prod and push and pull at me soon. But for the moment I'm reasonably comfortable, sort of clean, and I've even got a fresh sheet covering me up. Because everyone in the room hasn't already seen everything I have to show.
"Congratulations, Abby, John. She's beautiful." Dr. Coburn says. "I have another patient about to deliver, but I'll stop in to see you later." We give her our thanks and then she's gone.
John leans back on the gurney, getting comfortable. He drapes his arm around my shoulders, and I lean back against him, resting my head against his shoulder and letting out a sigh. I look up at him, but his gaze is fixed on Meg in her grandmother's arms. Maggie has the baby over her shoulder, trying to burp her. And suddenly that baby that felt so big when she was trying to get out of me looks very small and very fragile. But when that tiny little bundle lets out a loud burp, the illusion of delicateness is sort of lost.
I look back up at John, who is still watching the baby. I lift my hand up to his cheek and turn his head towards me. For a long moment we just look into each other's eyes, smiling.
"You did it, Abby." He says, bringing his hand up to my cheek. He leans in and kisses me. Just a short little kiss. But no sooner does he pull away then I lean forward and capture his lips again.
"No, we did it. All of us. I couldn't have done it, couldn't have gotten through it, without you. Thank you." He kisses me again.
"No, thank you." He says between kisses.
"Okay, you two. That's enough." Aunt Susan scolds us. "You just had a baby, no need to get another one started right away."
"You know, Susan," I say, "sometimes I question your credentials."
"If you think kissing is where babies come from …" Carter picks up my thoughts.
Susan just rolls her eyes at us. She turns to the baby, still on Maggie's shoulder. "What are we gonna do with your parents, huh Meg?" She strokes the baby's little head. We all seem to like to pet her.
"You wanna hold her?" Maggie asks.
"Yeah. I'd love to." Susan lifts the baby out of Maggie's arms and it's all I can do not to scream, 'her head, her head … watch her head!' But I know Susan knows her way around babies. And sure enough, Meg makes it into Susan's arms without her head falling off. "Oh God. She's so cute."
"Susan likes babies." Carter tells me.
"Really? I can't imagine."
"You should have seen her when her niece was born. Holding her up to the window, trying to teach her the constellations. Even though she didn't know the names of any of them."
"At least I didn't name them after The Three Stooges."
"Hey, you put me on the spot. It was all I could think of."
"No, you were just a goofball even then." She turns to the baby, "Yeah, your daddy is kinda a clown, isn't he? You missed him falling on his face all over the place earlier. But I'm sure there will be plenty of other opportunities."
"Thanks, Susan. Nice things to say to my daughter." Carter says to her.
"Your daughter. God, I can't believe you have a baby. It seems like yesterday that we were standing in the nursery with newborn Susie. And you were practically a baby yourself. And look at you now. It's all too weird. Isn't it, Meg? Oh, you are so sweet."
"Meg," I say, "tell Aunt Susan that she ought to have one of her own so you'll have a playmate."
"Yeah, I'll get right on that, Ab."
"You play your cards right and you could be the one in this bed next year."
"Are you gonna be in the next room?" She asks.
"Nooo. Your turn next."
"Easier said than done." Susan says.
"Don't act like you don't have any prospects on the horizon." I tell her.
"Well …"
"Are you seeing someone, dear?" Maggie asks.
"Well …" Susan says.
"Yes." I say.
"Oh, that's nice." Maggie says. "What's he like? Is he a doctor?"
"He's Luka." I tell her.
"Oh." She says. "Oh." Sounding a bit … confused, perhaps.
"We're all about the inbreeding around here."
"Yes." Susan says. "But look what good things come from it." She says to the baby in a high pitched voice. "And she doesn't even have any extra toes or anything."
Apparently Meg didn't like that comment as she starts fussing a bit.
"That's my cue to give her back." Susan says, handing the baby to her daddy.
"Hi, Meggie." He says. "Did you want to see Daddy?" She cries a little harder and he rubs the back of his finger along her cheek as he tries to shush her. She immediately turns her head and sucks on his knuckle. "Oh, maybe you want to see Mommy," he says.
"It's a reflex," I say. "It doesn't necessarily means she wants to nurse." But after a few seconds of sucking on her daddy's finger, she starts to wail. Pretty serious crying for a child that's not even an hour old. She pretty much sounds pissed. "Okay, maybe she does want to nurse. Seems like we just did it, though."
"Maybe she's still hungry. Maybe she wasn't done before." John suggests.
"I guess this is what that whole 'feeding on demand' thing is all about." I say. And then I reach for my crying baby. "Hey Meggers … it's okay. Shh, Meg … shh. Okay, Mommy will feed you." What's going on here anyway? Aren't newborn babies supposed to be quiet … placid … asleep? I would get one that's wide awake and demanding right from the start. Let's just hope that hunger is the problem.
Luckily, it does seem to be what she wants. She latches on and starts sucking enthusiastically. More so than before. Probably she's more awake now. Or hungrier. It's good, though, because the nursing will help my uterus contact. But between those gentle contractions -- which I can definitely feel, but that don't really hurt -- and the tingling in my breasts, not to mention the suckling on my nipple, this whole experience is sort of … sensual. Not exactly sexual, but … kind of like a massage -- it's not necessarily erotic, but it is sensuous. I'd better enjoy it while it lasts. Soon enough my milk will come in and I'll have engorged breasts. And after a few days of the baby using me a pacifier, I can probably look forward to cracked nipples. And something tells me that won't be nearly as much fun as this. But this is pretty good. And even if it starts to get uncomfortable, I want to stick with it. I love the idea of providing the baby with her sustenance. And then there's the whole bonding thing. I look at her in my arms, her skin against my skin … and I know she's mine. I'm hers. I'm her mother. And no one else could do this for her.
One of her little hands has escaped from her swaddling and is resting against my chest. I pick it up and look at her tiny little fingers. Impossibly small. I kiss her small hand, and she wraps it around my finger. I know that's another reflex, but still it feels pretty cool. My daughter holding my hand. I can't stop staring down at her. Watching her little face. Her eyes are getting heavy. Maybe that sleeping thing is gonna happen after all.
"Abby?" I hear Carter's voice.
"Huh?"
He's chuckling. "I've been trying to get your attention. It's like you're in another world."
"A whole new world." I say, leaning down to kiss the baby's head.
"Yeah." He says, laying his hand on Meg's head. "I should probably go and share the good news with everyone." I nod. "You up for having visitors tonight or do you want to wait until tomorrow?"
"No, I don't mind having visitors. But maybe … if they could wait … like an hour? I know the nurse will be back soon to poke at me again. And I'd like to take a shower, make myself a little more presentable. And …"
"What?"
"I'm hungry."
"I'm not surprised. But are you sure you're ready to eat?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I had a baby, not major surgery. I'm not sick. I'm fine. Besides, apparently your daughter is going to be breastfeeding continuously, so I'll need some energy." I say, looking down at the baby who is still nursing away. Guess she wasn't ready for that sleep thing after all.
"Okay. Whatever you say. What do you want?"
"A cheeseburger. And a milkshake." I grin playfully at him.
"You won't throw it at me this time, will you?"
"I'll try to control myself."
"Okay then." He says, kissing my cheek, kissing the baby. "I'll be right back. Will you be okay?"
"Of course." I say. "I'm not exactly alone." I gesture to my mom and Susan who are anxiously waiting for Meg's feeding to end so they can fight over holding her. "I'm sure we'll be fine. But we'll miss you."
"And I'll miss my girls." He says, taking my hand.
"Oh for God's sake." Susan says. "He's going downstairs, not to the front lines. He'll be back in half an hour."
We all laugh as he walks out the door. Count on Susan to make us laugh. I'm glad she was here. I'm glad my mom was here. I'm lucky. Amazingly lucky. A wonderful husband. A terrific best friend. A supportive mother. And now, the most perfect baby ever. Yeah, it really is a whole new world … and I love it.