I didn't even remember getting smuggled out of my apartment and into Sylia's car; one moment I was on the fluid-covered bathroom floor with a baby in my arms, and the next I was being helped into said car. Nene had thrown several of my clothes into a bag, me having not packed an overnight bag for the hospital yet, and gave it to Sylia.
"Are you going to be ok?" the redhead asked.
"We'll be all right," Sylia replied.
"I still can't believe you didn't know you were in labor!" she sighed loudly, shaking her head in disbelief as she glanced at me and the tiny bundle in my arms.
"It was my back hurting, not my stomach. Last I checked, the back wasn't the spot I was gonna pop the baby out from," I said.
Sylia's car was only built to fit two people, so we wouldn't have been able to fit in a car seat to put the baby in, unless we intended on putting her in the trunk. So we drove to her penthouse with the baby tucked in my arms, already asleep. Little wonder; I bet she was traumatized by the whole experience, coming into the world so suddenly. I wanted to sleep too, but I couldn't at the moment; I woulda dropped her. I forced myself to stay awake until we got to the Lady 633 building. Once we did, she quickly ushered me and the baby onto the elevator and took us straight up to her penthouse. The next thing I knew, I was already in a fresh change of clothes and tucked into Sylia's bed, Mackie tending to the baby while Sylia checked my vitals.
"I'm fine," I spat for about the eighth time. "It wasn't that bad."
"Just a precaution, Priss," she said calmly. "I'm just making sure everything is coming out normal."
"I dunno if having a kid in a bathroom is normal."
"It's not as uncommon as you might think." She wrapped a cuff around my arm and took my blood pressure. "125/102. Good."
I ripped off the cuff and tossed it at her. "Done?"
"Not quite. Just relax." Moving the blood pressure monitor aside, she bent over and put both hands on my stomach. She started to move them around, pressing firmly yet gently.
"What's that for?" I asked, shifting my position in bed.
"I'm massaging the uterus. It helps it to shrink back to a more normal size."
"Oh." I laid back and relaxed. "Sylia…do you know why I had her this early?"
"Hmm?"
"She wasn't due till July."
"The baby was thirty-six weeks along, which means she was born full-term. I see no cause for concern." She turned to Mackie. "Have you checked her weight, Mackie?"
"Yeah, just did, Sis," he said. "3.1 kilograms. And she's forty-nine centimeters long."
"That sounds good," I said to myself.
"It is," Sylia affirmed. "All within the normal range. You have a healthy daughter."
"A daughter…" I whispered to myself. A tear sprang to my eye, and I quickly wiped it away with one finger; a rush of emotion at the thought of now having a daughter…and being a mom…suddenly left me on the brink of tears. "Is…is Mackie done with her?"
"I think so." She motioned for Mackie to bring the baby over to me. He placed her in my arms, wrapped in a light pink blanket. Reddish-tinted hands were curled up underneath a tiny chin, which then stretched as the baby let out a tiny yawn. The cottage cheese-looking stuff had been cleaned off of her, leaving her nice and clean and dry. I bent down and kissed her little hands, counting her fingers. Ten tiny, perfect fingers. I then put one hand on her head, getting the feel of her wispy hair, and gave her a tiny peck on her forehead.
This was my baby. This was who had made my body her home for the past eight months. The one whom my body had nourished and helped to grow. The one who made me go through phases of weird food combos and huge mood swings, who made me so emotional as to make me cry while watching commercials on TV.
"Do you have a name for her?"
I looked up. "Huh?"
"Have you decided on a name for her?" Sylia repeated.
"I…well, no," I said, flushing slightly. "I've thought about it, but nothing's really popped out at me." I'd thought of all sorts of names: American, Japanese, Indian, Arabic…but none had seemed to suit her. My own parents had given me an American name so I'd stand out from other kids, as opposed to being given a generic name like Sakura or Jennifer or Hikari. In the years since I'd been born, though, there had been a huge influx of foreigners into the country, so non-Japanese names slowly lost their exoticness. But even now, at age twenty-five, I had yet to meet another Priscilla.
It was one thing to have a unique name. It was another to have a name that was just plain weird. How many sane people would name their kids after fruit (Apple?!), or give them names that nobody would have heard of if it weren't for famous characters or celebrities (Elvis? Juliet?). I would never subject my kid to anything like that. All I wanted was to give her a name that would suit her.
"I need to think about it some more," I finally said, handing the baby to Sylia. "I'm totally whipped right now."
"I understand. There's no rush."
I yawned and laid back in bed. "Hey…I woulda expected Nene to be right on our heels. Where is she?"
"I told her to get some rest of her own and to come by tomorrow."
"I'm the one needing rest," I retorted.
"Yes," she agreed, then added with a wry smile, "but imagine the shock to her system when she returned from shopping and found one of her best friends covered in amniotic fluid, in the bathroom, with a newly-born infant in her arms!"
In the middle of the night, I was woken up by a tiny cry. I sat up, crawled out of bed, then fumbled around in the dark for the source, which didn't take long; Sylia had put the baby close by. I picked the baby up and rocked her, shushing her gently.
"What's wrong, kiddo?" I asked, my answer being more crying. I patted her butt; it was damp. I set her down on the floor, then undid her diaper. I wadded it up into a ball and tossed it into the trash. Then I inwardly cursed myself when I realized I had to have another diaper to put on her. I stood up, wincing when my stomach tightened up, then took a quick glance around as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I spied it on the kitchen table, and so after I went and grabbed it, I took a look inside.
Thank God she remembered to pack stuff for the kid! I would've had to wring her neck!
I took out a few of the wipes and wiped the baby, then ripped open the package of diapers and took one of those out. Unfolding it, I turned it this way and that, trying to figure out how it went. But both ends looked the same.
"Damn it," I cursed.
"Priss, do you need some help?" I heard Sylia ask. I turned around and saw her standing at the doorway.
"Yeah, I think so," I admitted, grunting. "I've…uh, never changed a baby."
"I'll show you how."
First, she showed me the proper way to wipe the baby, demonstrating with one of the wipes. Then, she lifted up the baby's legs, grabbing them gently by the ankles, and slid the diaper underneath. After dusting her privates with some baby powder, Sylia showed me how to strap on the diaper.
"Is that all?"
"Yes," she replied. "It's not as hard as the design of the diaper would have you believe."
"Ok, so why is she still crying?" I looked down at the baby in my arms, who had resumed her crying.
"She's probably hungry. You've not tried to feed her since you gave birth. Here, sit in the chair." She ushered me to a nearby chair, then had me sit down and lift up my shirt to expose my breast. She told me to first make sure the baby's head was above the rest of the body. Then, Sylia told me to pull the baby closer so that its lower lip was on the lower edge of the areola.
"Now lift her up so that her mouth fully encloses your nipple," she finished. "Her mouth should cover that as well as the majority of the areola."
I squirmed as I felt the baby start to suck, then widened my eyes at the unfamiliar sensation of warm fluid coming out of my nipple. "It's…it's working," I exclaimed, watching as the baby relaxed and sucked on my breast.
"Make sure to pull her away every once in a while to let her breathe. You don't want her to choke."
"Ok."
It took a lot longer than I thought it would, but Sylia said that it takes longer to get milk out of a breast than it does to get it out of a bottle. I just smiled; breast milk was better for the baby anyway. I looked down at her, gently sucking away, looking perfectly content. Although she was only a couple hours old, I could feel her tugging on my heartstrings. This tiny baby, who had been the result of one of the worst experiences of my life…I never expected her to be so beautiful.
Despite where she came from…I knew the minute she was born that I would die for her.
