Title: This Thing About Birthdays
Author: Andrea
Rating: R. This would be a good time to reiterate that I really do mean R. For, you know, mature themes and sexual content. So please don't read it if you don't care for that sort of thing or if you (or someone else in the room) is too young to be reading R-rated material.
Summary: It's Carter's birthday and he's happily celebrating with Abby and their newborn daughter, Meg.
Author's Note: Thanks, COURTNEY.
*~*~*~*
This Thing About Birthdays
Chapter 15: A Lucky Man
"What are you doing here?" I hear Abby ask. Well, I usually sleep here. It is my bed.
"Huh? How did you get here? I know you didn't crawl here, so I guess your daddy brought you here. But I don't remember." Oh, I guess she's talking to Meg. The lilt in her voice really should have tipped me off.
I open my eyes slowly and realize that sometime in my sleep, I must have rolled away from Abby and the baby since I'm now sprawled out on my stomach, hugging the pillow under my head. I almost turn over to face them, but I change my mind and decide to just lie quietly for a moment, eavesdropping a bit. I can't help it, I love to listen to Abby cooing at Meg. Especially when she doesn't know I'm listening.
"Good morning, sunshine," she's saying now in a soft, cheerful voice. Higher pitched and more sing-song than her usual voice … this is her mommy voice, reserved for baby talk. "Did you get some sleep? I guess so because you seem pretty happy. Mommy got some sleep, so Mommy's pretty happy. How are you, huh? How's my girl? Did you have a good time with Daddy last night? I hope you didn't give him too much trouble. Of course, I hope you didn't go too easy on him either … or his head will swell up, and I'll never hear the end of it. We can't have his ego inflating, that's not good for anybody." I can't help but smile. She does this sometimes -- slips out of baby talk mid-sentence and starts talking to Meg as if she were a contemporary of hers rather than her newborn baby. It always amuses me.
"It's Daddy's birthday today, you know. Our friends are coming over to celebrate. Yeah, you'll get to see them all again. And they'll be so excited to see you. We're gonna get you all dressed up. I know just what to put you in. That pretty pink dress with the little flowers on it. Your daddy bought that for you before you were even born. He was that sure you were a girl. And look -- he was right. So you'll wear your pink dress and maybe your little bonnet with the pink flowers, and you'll look absolutely adorable. But what's Mommy gonna wear? That's gonna be a tough one."
"No, it won't," I say, rolling over and sitting up, "You'll look gorgeous no matter what you wear."
Abby gives me a little eye roll before turning back to Meg. "Daddy's been spying on us. Pretending to be asleep. So now he's just trying to butter us up." Abby's sitting up in bed, too, holding Meg out in front of her while she conducts this conversation with her.
"I am not … I meant that. You'll look great. You do look great."
"Uhn. I don't know about that. I have no idea what I'm gonna wear for your party. And I can't possibly look great now. I'm sure my hair is scary, and I'm sitting here in a rumpled nightshirt … that's half unbuttoned. I'm such a mess. Was I like this when you found us in the nursery? I know I was kinda out of it, but I didn't think I was that out of it."
"Nope. You were buttoned up then. This happened later."
"I don't remember. I don't remember feeding her after I came to bed."
"That's not surprising, Ab. You were pretty much dead to the world. I brought Meg in here screaming, and you didn't even stir."
"Really? She was crying, and I didn't wake up?" Uh-oh. Abby sounds unduly upset about this, her voice wavering a little.
"Don't worry, sweetie. I think you were just that exhausted."
"Yeah, but she was crying. She was hungry, right? Probably starving. Poor thing. Some mother I am, sleeping right through my starving baby's screams."
"Oh, Abby … it wasn't like that. She was just a bit fussy. And you were tired. It turned out fine. I helped you out a little -- with the unbuttoning and all. But the minute Meg was in your arms, you took over. Even sleeping, you did everything just right. You're a natural." And she is. There's no doubt in my mind. Every time I watch her with Meg, I realize all over again just how well motherhood suits Abby.
"But I should have woken up."
"Abby …"
"I'm sorry, pumpkin," Abby says, cradling Meg close to her. "I'm sorry you were hungry, and I didn't wake up." She seems really upset about this, almost tearing up as she cuddles Meg.
"She's fine, Abby. No harm done."
"But what if you hadn't been here? My God, she might have cried for hours while her horrible mother just slept through the whole thing."
"That wouldn't happen, Ab. And you're not a horrible mother. First off, if I hadn't been here, you probably would have had her sleeping in your arms all along. Secondly, you turned her over to me so … your brain knew that it wasn't your watch and finally let you get some of that deep sleep that you've been needing." I wrap my arm around her and pull her against me, leaning us back against the pillows and headboard. "You're a great mom, Abby. No, you're a fantastic mom. Just look at her. She's perfect -- healthy, happy, beautiful. And that's all because of you."
"I just … I just want to always be there for her. I don't want to ever not be there when she needs me. I don't ever want her to have to wonder if I'll be there. It's the one thing every kid should be able to count on … her mom being there when she needs her."
"And you will be. You are already. You're always there when Meg needs you, sometimes before she even knows that she needs you. And you were there last night, you gave Meg just what she wanted then." I kiss the top of Abby's head, trying to reassure her. "You just weren't exactly aware of what you were doing. But you did it all just right, anyway. You're just that in tune to her. Your maternal instincts are just that strong."
"Yeah, but …"
"No, 'buts.' Meg's fine. It was my job to take care of her while you got some much-needed rest. There's nothing wrong with getting some sleep. You have to … so that you can be the kind of mom you want to be. Meg's much better off with a happy, well-rested mommy than a stressed-out, exhausted mommy."
"I know … but …"
"And there's nothing wrong with letting me take a turn now and then so that you can get some rest. Meg's in good hands, and I love spending the time with her. I hated having to wake you; I would have fed her if I could have, but try as she might, it just wouldn't work. Would it, Meggie?" I ask, reaching out to stroke Meg's soft cheek as she lies happily in her mother's arms.
As if on cue, Meg starts fussing a bit. Maybe my rubbing her cheek inspired some sort of reflex or maybe she just happened to realize she's hungry. But suddenly she's complaining, turning her head toward Abby, opening and closing her mouth in a familiar gesture. I watch, still somewhat in awe, as Abby easily settles into nursing the baby as if she's been doing this forever instead of a little over a week.
"I can't believe how good you are at that. You make it look so easy."
"Well, it's not that complicated. I mean, it is a natural thing."
"Yeah, but you read the same baby books I did … and they all talked about all the difficulties of breastfeeding, but you don't seem to have any of those problems. It's just come … well, naturally to you. Like you said. But it doesn't work that way for everyone, you know."
She shrugs. "I'm just lucky, I guess. Or all those years in OB teaching other women how to do it paid off."
"Or maybe you were just always meant to do this."
"Do what? Breastfeed?"
"Be a mother. Seems like you were born to be a mother, the way it's all come so easy to you."
"It's not always easy." She says, but she's looking down at Meggie, smiling softly while gently smoothing back her hair.
"I know that. But I just mean … you seem so comfortable with it. So good at it. Half the time I have no idea what to do, but you always seem to know."
"No, I don't. I just make it up as I go along."
"Yeah, but you have no problem just making it up as you go along. It just seems to come to you instinctually. Those maternal instincts again."
"I guess," she says with another shrug, smiling down at Meg who is contentedly nursing at her breast.
"I have to admit," I tell Abby who is still in my arms, leaning back against my chest, "Watching you feed her … well, I'm kinda jealous."
"Of Meg?" Abby asks with a giggle.
"No … well, maybe a little," I say, chuckling, "But really … I'm jealous of you. You know, because you get to be the one who feeds her."
"Yeah, lucky me." Abby says. But she can't quite pull off the sarcasm this time. She's too busy grinning at Meg.
"You are lucky … that you have the privilege of being the one to feed her. Give her all the nourishment she needs. You get to be close to her in a way that I'll never be able to."
"Yeah, I know," she says, making silly little faces at Meg who is staring up at her with complete concentration, captivated by her mother, even as she nurses. And Abby's every bit as enthralled with Meg, never breaking their eye contact, even as she talks to me. "It is a privilege. Even if it can sometimes be a little bit … exhausting."
"I wish I could help," I tell her, meaning that sincerely. "If only I could lactate."
"Well, I can't do anything about the fact that you don't lactate … but in a couple weeks, you can help with the feedings."
"Give her a bottle?"
"Sure. The books all say to wait at least three or four weeks before you introduce bottles. But I want to start soon so she'll get comfortable with the bottle. As much as I love nursing her, believe me, it'll be great to let someone else take care of a feeding now and then."
"Someone … like me?"
"Well, I wasn't expecting to bus in volunteers."
"I'll volunteer. I can't wait to get a chance to be the one to feed her." And I mean it. I would love to be able to feel like I was really doing something essential for Meg. It'll never be on the same scale that it is with Abby … but at least I'll feel like I'm contributing. And Meg will bond with me too … food is love, right? At least to a newborn. So if I get to feed her, maybe she'll know how much I love her.
"I'm sure you can't wait," Abby says. "Of course, you don't have to figure out the breast pump. Which, by the way, still kinda scares me."
"Well, I have no doubt that you'll be able to figure that out with as much ease as you've figured out the rest of this mommy thing."
"Ha. Easy for you to say. It's not your titties getting stuck in some scary contraption."
"Abby!"
"What?"
"Your … language? Do you really think you should use that word around the baby?"
"Contraption?"
"No! Titties!"
"Gotcha," she says, referring to the fact that once again she tricked me into saying the taboo word. "That gets you every time," she dissolves into a fit of giggle, shaking her head at Meg over, I can only assume, my incredible lameness.
"You think this is funny?"
"Kinda, yeah. I never knew you were such a prude."
"I'm not a prude."
"Well, I certainly didn't think so … I mean, not when you threw me down on that gurney in that trauma room and --"
"Abby! Jesus, you're holding our baby daughter in your arms."
"Right, and I must have forgotten about how she's the result of an immaculate conception and all. Why the hell do you think she's here? Because we had sex."
"Would you stop it?"
"I can't say S-E-X in front of the baby, either? You know what, Meg? I think your daddy is C-R-A-Z-Y."
"That's nice, Abby. Just insult me on my birthday." But my tone is playful, in keeping with the bantering.
"I'm sorry," Abby says, looking away from Meg and up at me. "Happy Birthday." She gives me a little kiss on the lips before laying her head back against my shoulder. She sighs in my arms, a happy contented sigh. And when I look over at her, I see her eyes are closed, and a peaceful smile turns up the corners of her mouth. For a while all is quiet except for the little sucking and swallowing noises Meg makes as she eats. I'm content to just watch, marveling at the beauty of the moment. Just watching Abby and Meg together is enough to fill me with pride, happiness, gratitude. And to have my girls here in my arms … well, I couldn't think of a better way to start my birthday.
"Hey," Abby says, lifting her head off my shoulder. "Don't fall asleep."
I almost answer her before I realize that she's not talking to me. She's talking to the baby, of course, and pulling one of Meg's little legs out of her nightgown, shaking it a little bit then tickling her foot. Meg's eyes open up, and she suddenly starts nursing with more energy.
"There, that's better." Abby smiles down at her, still playing with the baby's tiny toes.
"Why'd you wake her up?" I ask.
"Because if she falls asleep in the middle of her feedings, she just wants to eat again before I know it. And I already feel like she's eating every hour on the hour. So I'd rather she fill up all at once and give me at least a couple hours in between feedings."
"What? You don't want to sit around nursing the baby all day?" I ask in a playful tone.
"I already do. But I'd rather not do it continuously. It's nice to do something else once in a while. You know … eat … shower."
"Highly overrated."
"What? Eating or showering?"
"Both?"
"Yeah, what was the last meal you missed?"
"Well, I haven't had breakfast, yet. I mean, it is my birthday. I would have thought that breakfast in bed wouldn't be too much to ask." I give Abby a grin at the suggestion that she should have run downstairs and whipped up a gourmet breakfast in honor of my birthday.
"Fat chance, buddy. The only one I'm making breakfast in bed for these days is Meg. Of course, that's only because I don't actually have to get out of bed to do it."
"Don't let her fool you, Meg. She'd bring you breakfast in bed even if she did have to get up. For you, she'd get up at any hour of the day or night."
"Unlike your poor, neglected father," Abby tells Meg, who has momentarily stopped nursing. Abby takes the opportunity to rearrange Meg, holding her upright, obviously intending to burp her.
"Here, let me do that." I reach for Meg and lift her tiny form off her mother's chest. Meg's all curled up with her little legs pulled up to her chest, her arms held snug alongside her face. The way her back naturally curves, curling her into a little ball, makes her look like a little bean and inspires me to give her a new pet name.
"Hi, jelly bean," I say, cuddling her to my chest. "Good morning." I pat her back gently, but firmly and soon my sweet little angel produces a nice big burp. "Oh, that was a good one. Just like last night. I think I'm getting good at this part," I tell Abby.
"Congratulations. I guess that makes you the burp king."
"What can I say? It's a great honor."
"Oh, I'm sure it is. Now can I have my baby back?"
"No, it's my birthday, and I want to hold my baby."
"Well, my baby isn't done with her feeding yet. We've got another side to go. So unless you've suddenly worked out that lactating thing, you better give her back."
"She doesn't look hungry to me. Don't you think she had enough before?"
"I don't know … maybe. But it never hurts to try." I guess there's no arguing with that logic. I hand over Meg and watch as Abby once again shows her superiority when it comes to knowing what Meg needs. The baby doesn't hesitate to return to nursing, quite enthusiastically, in fact, as if she hadn't eaten in hours. It isn't long, though, before Meg starts to drift off again, her eyes getting heavy and finally falling closed. This time, Abby makes no move to wake her.
"How come you're not waking her up?" I ask in a whisper.
"Because I think she's had enough."
"How did you know she hadn't had enough last time?"
"Because she woke up and ate some more."
"So how do you know she wouldn't wake up and eat more now?"
"I don't. Maybe she would. But it seems like she probably got several ounces by now … so if she's tired, I'm gonna let her sleep. Besides, I think I have to replenish the supply, she's done some serious damage."
"But she's still nursing," I say watching the movements of Meg's little jaw against Abby's skin.
"Well … she still sucking, but she's not getting much milk. It's just that reflex to suck so she's really just using me like a pacifier. Speaking of which …" She nods toward the nightstand on my side where Meg's tiny pink and white pacifier rests. I pass it to Abby and watch as she executes a quick exchange of the breast for the binky, Meg only protesting briefly.
"I think she's out for a while," Abby says as she slips out of bed with the baby in her arms. I assume she'll put Meg in the bassinet at the foot of our bed, but instead she heads out of our room and turns to go into the nursery. Within moments, Abby returns alone and crawls back into bed, wrapping her arms around me and cuddling close.
"How come you put her in the nursery?" I ask.
"Well, we did spend all that time choosing and assembling the crib, it only seems right she should use it once in a while. But God, she looks so tiny when she's in there. She didn't seem to mind, though; she didn't even stir when I laid her down."
"Well, that's good. But you could have put her in the bassinet, you know."
"I know … but I thought it might be nice for us to have some time alone. Without the baby in the room. Between first being pregnant and then usually having a newborn in between us, it's been a while since I've been able to curl up with you like this."
And by 'this' she means using me as a full body pillow. I'm lying on my back and she's lying on top of me, her arms wrapped around my waist, her head resting on my chest. Not that I'm complaining. I like being her pillow. And she's right, it's been a while since we've been able to enjoy this particular configuration. I wrap my arms tightly around her and take a deep breath, breathing in the scent of her.
"You smell good," I tell her.
"I do? What do I smell like?"
"Well …" I hesitate a moment, not sure if she would consider the truth a compliment, "You smell like … the baby."
"The baby?"
"Yeah. You both smell all powdery and milky and sweet. It's nice."
"Well, I'm glad you like it. I have a feeling I'll smell this way for quite some time."
She snuggles closer against me, and for a while we stay that way, just enjoying our moment of alone time. I'm just glad to have her this close to me. I'm not really expecting anything more so I'm a little surprised when Abby suddenly changes the whole tone of this little encounter. She shifts positions, pushing herself up on her arms and shifting her weight forward, brining us face-to-face. I recognize the naughty glint in her eye, and my suspicions are confirmed when she leans down to capture my lips in what turns into a long, sultry kiss.
"Abby …" I say, with a disappointed but warning tone, as soon as we pull apart.
"What?"
"You know what. I know what you're thinking. But you know we can't. I mean, I know people cheat all the time … but it's only been ten days."
She narrows her eyes and gives me a funny look. What? Did I misinterpret her intentions? "Just because we can't go all the way," Abby says, using an exaggerated tone for that particular phrase, "Doesn't mean we can't … fool around."
Hmm … well, technically, I guess that's true. And I certainly do enjoy fooling around … but these days, I tend to think of it as foreplay. Which is why I'm a bit hesitant to start anything. Of course, that hesitancy starts to disappear when I notice that Abby is now sitting up on her knees next to me, slowly undoing the buttons on her nightshirt. She watches me watching her as she slips the garment off, leaving her in nothing but a pair of cotton panties. I reach out and gently touch her bare stomach, no longer round and firm with pregnancy, but now flat and soft.
"I've got a little weight to lose," she says, looking down at my hand on her belly. But I'm glad to see that she really doesn't seem too self-conscious about how her body looks. And she's got no reason to worry about it. She looks great. She would look great by any standards, but when you consider she just had a baby … well, it's pretty remarkable.
"No," I tell her. "You look amazing. I was just thinking that the last time I rubbed your belly like this it was all full of Meg." Meg. Who's no longer inside Abby, but instead is sleeping in the room next door. "It's still unbelievable."
"I know. It's crazy. Sometimes I don't know what to expect when I look in the mirror." While I've been busy caressing her stomach and running my hand lightly up and down her side, she's reached up and slipped one of her hands underneath my t-shirt.
"It must be hard getting used to all these changes," I say as I struggle to sit up, helping Abby to pull my shirt over my head.
"Sometimes," she says, laying her bare chest down on mine, our faces close together, allowing me to lift my head up and kiss her. It doesn't take much encouragement to get her to part her lips, letting my tongue make a swift entrance into her welcoming mouth.
I roll us over, putting Abby under me. In need of oxygen, I pull away from the kiss, but immediately drop my head to her shoulder, kissing along towards her neck. I nibble my way down her neck and across her chest, letting my hands slip up either side of her body, enjoying the feel of her bare skin. My hands and lips are moving toward the same destination when suddenly I remember, and stop cold.
"It's okay," Abby says, "You can touch them … if you want to. They won't explode or anything."
Well, no, I didn't think so. It's just that … somehow, it doesn't seem quite right. I can't help but look at Abby's breasts in a different light these days. They're Meg's now.
As if reading my mind, Abby says, "Don't worry, she won't mind sharing."
No, I don't suppose so. And as long as Abby is comfortable with it … who am I to protest? Besides, Abby will probably be nursing for a while, and chances are I'm gonna want to touch her boobs again sometime before she weans the baby. I should just be glad that she's willing to let me.
So I tentatively reach out one finger and trace around the outer contours of one fleshy orb. Abby sighs happily, her hand resting on the top of my head, fingers running through my hair. She pushes my head down toward her chest, and I let my lips gently explore the furrow in between her breasts before moving on to the swells of flesh.
I let my hand cover one breast completely and Abby arches her back against me. When I gently massage her flesh, she moans quietly. I guess I don't have to worry about hurting her, she seems to be enjoying this as much as she ever did. Maybe even more so. The nipple under my palm is firm and with my manipulations seems to be contracting even further. It also seems to be leaking slightly, as I can feel some dampness on my hand. Looking at the one in front of me, I see it's responding similarly. There's not a lot of liquid escaping, just tiny droplets here and there. I don't know what I expected, maybe that milk would shoot out like a fountain. This is much more … manageable. Still, it's a little strange.
Abby, however, doesn't seem to be the least bit concerned as she firmly holds my head against her chest as she arches her body up against mine. I'm a little reluctant, but finally let my mouth cover the pink center of her breast and the firm peak at its heart. Her warm skin beneath my tongue feels wonderful, as always, but now there is a subtle, but definite, sweet and … well, milky taste. I move my hand and mouth in concert with each other for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Abby skin, and loving the sounds of her soft moans and sighs. I continue my manipulations until suddenly I feel Abby stiffen in my arms even as her milk runs more freely. I immediately stop my ministrations fearing I've hurt her, but then I feel her shudder against me. I look up and see a satisfied little smile on Abby's lips. I move up to join her on the pillow, laying my head down next to her, letting my hand trail lazily up her side.
"Is that supposed to happen?" I ask her when her eyes drift open.
"Well, they are awfully sensitive these days."
"That's not what I meant. I meant you just had a baby, should you really be … you know."
"It was just a little one. Nice all the same, though." Her hand is brushing up my arm, over my shoulder and then down my back.
"Still …"
"Don't worry about it. This isn't the first time it's happened."
"What?"
"Yeah … well …" She looks a little embarrassed as she continues, "It's a perfectly normal thing that can happen when you're breastfeeding. Just an involuntary response to the … stimulation. And the other night … well, I was half awake, half dreaming … one of those dreams. You know. And between that and the breastfeeding … and having you wrapped all around me and being so relaxed and kind of out of it … well, it just kinda happened. I mean, not a ripping the sheets, screaming orgasm … just a nice gentle one. And I haven't experienced any ill effects so I'm sure it's not a problem." She shrugs.
"So this was a little one, huh? I never realized these things had a grade. I always thought it was kinda pass/fail."
"Oh, they do. Believe me." The hand that was on my back drifts a little lower, and then Abby leans her head forward to kiss my neck, giving my butt a little squeeze through my boxers before she looks up at me and says, "And I think it's your turn to enjoy a grade A, sheet-ripping, screaming …"
"Abby …"
"What?"
"You don't have to."
"Have to? I want to. And it is your birthday."
Her hand slips around to the front of my boxers, squeezing the bulge that strains against the material. As soon as Abby crawled into bed and curled up with me, pressing her body tight against mine, there was stirring in my groin, and it's grown steadily with all our 'fooling around.' Just the light touch of her hand is enough to make me want to explode. The kisses that she's using to blaze a trail down a my chest are also helping to fan the flames. Her body slips further down mine as her mouth works its way down my chest and across my stomach. While her tongue trails lazily around my belly button, her fingers slip along the waistband of my boxers, pushing them over my hips and finally freeing me from my restraints.
My eyes close and my head falls back as I feel her hands on me, her fingers touching, caressing, exploring the contours. My hardness swells in her hand, twitching as if with a life of its own. I open my eyes to look down at her and see that she seems to be enjoying herself, gazing down at me, perhaps relishing in the power that she holds over me at the moment. I find myself mumbling her name and moaning as her movements become more purposeful. She begins stroking rhythmically, first slowly, but then with an increasing speed. Her hand tightens around my muscle at the base, and I let my eyes close once again in anticipation of what will come next.
I feel the soft, wet, warmth of her lips begin to surround me, and it's all I can do to keep from thrusting my hips up toward her. I try to relax and enjoy the moment. I love the feel of her bathing me in soft kisses, not missing a single inch of my most sensitive flesh. Her tongue licks and swirls, driving me insane. I moan her name and she sighs, her breath warm against my skin. And then I feel her lips engulf me once again and my eyes pop open. I look down and see her looking back at me, her eyes twinkling. My hands are in her hair, holding her steady, where I need her to stay. Her hand grips me tightly, moving quickly along the taut muscle, her mouth working in harmony with the movements of her hands. Her movements become faster, more frantic, and my body responds in kind. Soon the need for release is overwhelming. I lose control and my hips lift off the bed, pushing toward the warm depths of Abby's mouth. And then the sensations wash over me, and I call out her name at the moment of sweet release. I let my eyes fall shut once more as I collapse, giving over absolutely to the feelings flooding my body. Abby is still at work between my legs, bringing me to total completion. Waiting for my climax to fully subside, I keep my eyes closed, my hands gently running through Abby's hair, just enjoying the relaxation and satisfaction of the moment.
After a minute, Abby shifts positions, and I somehow muster enough strength to look down at her. Her chin is resting my stomach, and she's gazing up at me with a self-satisfied smile smirk on her face.
"Happy birthday," she says, with a waggle of her eyebrows.
"Yeah, I'll say." I croak out.
She laughs and turns her head to the side, resting her cheek against my stomach. We stay like this for a few moments. I don't know what she's thinking, but about all I can think is 'Damn, I'm a lucky man.'
"I love you." I finally say, for lack of a better way to tell her how grateful I am for her.
"I know," she says simply. And then, "I love you, too." She turns her head and kisses my belly. Then looks up at me again. "I'm gonna go take a shower."
I just nod, watching as she extricates herself from me gracefully and then moves off to the bathroom. For a few moments, I lie quietly … so calm and peaceful that I could fall asleep just listening to Abby as she putters in the bathroom, finally getting in the shower and starting to sing quietly. She thinks I can't hear her out here, and I've done nothing to dispel that myth since I kind of enjoy these private concerts. After a few minutes, though, I realize that this solo has become a duet. Listening closely, I hear Meg crying rather lustily in the next room. I get up and start toward the nursery, remember that I'm naked, and turn around to get my boxers, figuring that for baby care duties, I should probably at least be wearing underwear.
I cross Meg's room to her crib and find her lying there red-faced and screaming.
"Oh, Meg, it's okay," I croon at her, "Daddy's here." I lift her into my arms and cuddle her close against me. I scoop her pacifier out of the crib and pop it into her mouth, holding it in with one hand. I start walking around the room with a little rhythmic bounce in my step. "Shh, sweetie … it's okay. You're okay now. Daddy's here. I've got ya." She quiets down pretty quickly. She doesn't go back to sleep, but she does stop crying … for the most part. Once my ears are no longer being assaulted, my nose realizes what should have been obvious from the moment I walked in the room. Somebody needs a diaper change.
"Should we change your diaper, Meggie?" I ask as I lie her down on the changing table gently. I'm prepared for her to start crying again, but she seems content to work on her pacifier while I inspect the diaper situation. And when I pull up her little nightgown, I discover a code brown -- some serious diaper leakage. Yuck. That's a mess. And it smells bad too. It's a wonder that it's not all over me.
Okay, this poses a bit of a problem … how I am I supposed to get this gown off over her head when it's covered in poop? Abby would undoubtedly have some trick up her sleeve. Or she'd just make something up … but I don't seem to possess that same ability. So instead I just stare at my poopy baby for a minute, hoping inspiration will strike. Well, there's a couple buttons on this thing, under her chin. I unbutton those and then pull her arms out of the sleeves. I think that maybe I can just slide the whole thing down rather than lifting it over her head.
A good theory, I suppose, but as soon as I pull one arm through the neck, I realize it'll never work. The neck isn't wide enough to get both her arms through. This seems like a silly way to manufacture a newborn's clothes. Why should everything have to go over her head? Why aren't there snaps all the way up one side for this sort of circumstance? Who makes these things, anyway? Okay, okay. I need a new plan. I slip Meg's arm back through the neck opening. She's being incredibly patient with me, just calmly regarding me while I twist and bend her this way and that.
"Okay, Meg … I guess we have to pull this thing over your head. So … uh … close your eyes and hold your breath."
I roll the material of Meg's gown over onto itself, hoping to keep clean side against her. I manage to lift it over her head without too much trouble. And I don't see any poop in the baby's hair so I'll consider it a success. Of course, now I have to get the onesie off. And it's even messier than the gown. But I figure using the same technique ought to work. It works fine until I'm trying to pull the garment over Meg's head and this time it doesn't slip off so easily. Meg ends up with her face covered and that seems to make her really mad. She spits out the pacifier and starts howling. I manage to get her onesie off and then attempt to put the nuk back in her mouth which makes her that much angrier. Okay, well … she's gonna start crying when I take off the diaper, anyway. Best to just get it over with.
"Sorry, kiddo, but I gotta do it." I open up the box of wipes, conveniently located in the wipe-warmer on the top of the changing table. I arm myself with several and first clean off Meg's legs and back while her screams accompany me. And there's something about the shrill pitch of her newborn cry that sets me on edge, making it that much harder to accomplish the task at hand. I finally manage to get her out of the dirty diaper and into the new one, carefully fitting the little cut out notch around her belly button. And then I remember that I have to clean off around her navel and what's left of her umbilical cord. Naturally, SuperMom has the cotton balls and alcohol right here, so it's a pretty simple task. At least at first.
"Uh-oh," I say, looking at a now-quiet Meg who has somehow managed to get her fist in her mouth and so is happily sucking on her fingers.
"Abby!" I call. I can hear her moving around in the bedroom now, so I know she'll hear me. And sure enough, I hear something clatter to the floor, and Abby running across the room. Probably in a panic. Did I sound panicky?
"What?" She asks, appearing in the door way, wearing her robe. "What's wrong?" She starts across the room immediately.
"I broke the baby," I tell her in my best forlorn voice, holding up the dried-up piece of Meg's umbilical cord that fell off in my hand as I tried to clean it.
Abby squints in my direction, probably trying to see what exactly I'm showing her. Then she smiles when she gets close enough to see what it is. "Oh … her cord fell off."
"Yep. I didn't mean to do it."
"Well, these things happen. Don't beat yourself up too much." She smiles down at Meg, running her hand over Meg's belly, now without the somewhat nasty looking remnant of the umbilical cord. "It's been about to fall off for the past couple days, hasn't it, Meggie? Daddy just got to do the honors, huh? And now … you can have a real bath … yes, you can," Abby coos at the baby as she reaches down to pick her up.
While Abby talks to Meg, I clean up the mess that's left on the changing table, wrapping up the dirty diaper and putting it in the diaper pail. The soiled clothes I'll drop in the laundry room across the way when I leave the room. That just leaves one little matter.
"You want this?" I ask Abby, proffering the little piece of cord.
"What would I want that for?" Abby asks as she shifts the baby onto her shoulder. I watch as Meg nuzzles her tiny head against her mother's neck. She doesn't do that for me. If I hold Meg against my shoulder, she tries to suck on the collar of my shirt. If Abby holds Meg against her shoulder, Meg tries to burrow into her. A mommy's girl already.
"Just throw it away," Abby's saying.
"Throw it away?" It seems like something too important to just throw away. It is, after all, the last tangible piece of the physical connection that Abby and Meg once shared. Of course, there's plenty of tangible evidence of that connection to be found in just looking at them together. This moment being a prime example. Abby's changed Meg's position again, this time holding her upright against her own chest, adjusting her robe so that it wraps around both of them. Meg's all tucked in to the warm terry cloth with just her little head poking out at the V where the two sides of the robe meet, her cheek resting against Abby's chest.
"What?" Abby says, catching the way I'm looking at her.
"That's a good look for you. But I didn't know you were going to wear our baby as an accessory."
"She was getting cold. Besides, the skin-to-skin contact is good for her." How did she know she was getting cold? And she needs skin-to-skin contact? I don't know where she gets some of this stuff. Or how she knows it. But it always amazes me … she just seems to know what's good for the baby. She just seems to know … Meg.
"You really want me to throw this away?" I ask, a bit wistfully.
"Well, what else do you think we should do with it? Save it in her baby book next to a lock of her hair?"
"Well …"
"I'm not saving that thing … it's all icky looking. It would be like saving a used band-aid or a scab or that dirty diaper over there. Speaking of which, what happened in here?"
"Poop explosion."
"Oh," Abby says knowingly, having been through a few of these herself. "I hate when that happens."
"Yeah, but I'll bet you hate it a lot more when you have to clean it up."
"Well …" She shrugs. Can't say as I blame her, I feel the same way. Although I don't really mind taking care of Meg's messes … because it's Meg.
"Do you wanna take a bath?"
"Well, yeah … I was just thinking I'd go take a shower." The words are already out of my mouth when I realize … yet again, that she's not talking to me. "Oh, you mean Meg … yeah."
"Yeah, I mean Meg. Now that her cord is gone, we can try out her little tub." With Meg's umbilical cord still in place, we've stuck to just sponge baths, usually on the changing the table or in our bathroom, dabbing at one part of her body at a time. But Abby's right … now we can try out the little infant tub on the counter in Meg's bathroom.
"You want to do it right now?" I ask.
"Actually, believe it or not, she's making that 'feed me' face … again. So maybe we're gonna do that first." Sure enough, Meg's complaining a bit and restlessly moving her head back and forth against Abby's chest.
"What do you mean, 'believe it or not' … it has been all of an hour. A little more even."
"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking." Abby says sarcastically, but she bends her head down and kisses the top of Meg's head affectionately. "So why don't you go take your shower and when you get back, we'll give her her first bath."
"You'll wait for me?"
"Of course."
"Good. Because … I really wouldn't want to miss it."
"And I wouldn't want you to miss it. So go on … go take your shower. We'll be right here." Abby settles into the rocker with Meg, preparing to feed her.
So I head off to take a shower, briefly leaving my family behind, but thinking about them all the while. And all I can think, yet again this morning, is that I really am a lucky man.