Wonder of the Waves

by Jim Lombardo

  “It says the first six to eight weeks, babies aren’t able to stay awake for more than two hours at a time, and they’ll sleep about 16 hours a day. She should be conked out right now.”

  “Just have your Aunt Doris start talking to her—that’ll put her to sleep,” Brian deadpanned.

  “Ha-ha, Bri’. Maybe a nice lullaby will help her. Come on, sweetheart.” Monica lifted Hannah up, and began singing softly as she gently placed the bright-eyed infant onto the bed and cuddled up around her. “Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep, little baby…” Monica yawned and managed to slur a couple of more lines before she herself drifted off. Hannah watched with intense curiosity.

  Brian made his way back into the bedroom after loading the dishwasher, and was surprised at the sight of Monica fast asleep with Hannah gazing at her mother, as he was expecting to see the reverse. But with the baby content and securely swaddled, he back-stepped quietly out of the room, pulling the door closed to just a crack, and left them alone, until Monica called out for him about an hour later. As Brian returned, Monica was readying herself to nurse again, while Hannah was pursing her lips and adjusting her head towards Monica’s nipple.

  “You let me sleep, Hannah. What a good baby you are,” said Monica as the child latched onto her. “She still hasn’t cried, Brian. Not even once. I hope there’s nothing wrong. Did she sleep while I was asleep?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Well, she must’ve.”

  Chapter Nine

  Miniature, Flat People

  During her first week at home, Hannah was spellbound by speech. She noticed how generally one person would make sounds with their mouth hole while the other was silent, then it would switch. This would continue back and forth. Sometimes at the tail end of a person’s speech, the noise would rise up in pitch. But why? Hannah had the ability to replay all of her life experiences at will, almost as if watching a movie, and she used this special skill to “listen” to exchanges over and over again, looking for patterns and repeated sounds in an effort to draw findings and conclusions. She observed how the movement of a person’s mouth and lips coincided with certain sounds, or talking noises. From this practice she determined that the talking noise that sounded like “sleep” must refer to when a person lies down, closes their eyes, and remains still for long periods of time. The baby wanted so desperately to share in the talking noises, to be part of connecting with others through speech. At the tender age of just 12 days old, she pulled away from Monica, turned her head towards Brian, and cried out loudly, “Baaaaaaah.”

  “That sounded just like a ‘b,’ Monica,” said Brian. “Just 25 more letters, and you’re good to go, Hannah.”

  “My girl is so smart,” added Monica proudly.

  Hannah then pivoted towards her mother, and gushed, “Maaaaaaah.”

  “Wow, Monica, that was an “m”! Almost like ‘m’ for Monica and ‘b’ for Brian. That’s freaky.”

  Hannah knew that she had truly communicated with Brian and Monica, and she stopped her brain from learning for an instant, just to savor the sensation.

  Most new parents would be anticipating sleepless nights at home with their new baby crying endlessly, but during their first week home together they had slept fine. The baby had not actually slept, but at times had closed her eyes for a while to rest them, which gave the appearance of sleeping. That all changed the first day Hannah began practicing her consonants. Her lungs were so small that she could only get out two to three syllables with each breath, but she lay in her bassinet beside their bed that night on her back chanting.

  “M, M, Ma…M, M, Ma.…”

  “B, B, Ba…B, B, Ba….”

  “Ba, Ba, Ba…Ba, Ba…Ba, Ba….”

  Brian was going crazy. “Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba…” He rolled over and put a pillow over his head, trying to drown out what he considered mindless babble. “Honey, did you forget to feed the goats?”

  The only time Hannah stopped vocalizing was to nurse, at which point Brian could manage to catch some sleep. Halfway through the night, Monica began weeping out of pure exhaustion, combined with lingering achiness from her incision. At that point the noise in the bassinet stopped. The parents soon dozed off, assuming their baby had finally fallen asleep. In fact, Hannah had become concerned for her mother. She listened in complete silence until Monica’s face appeared above her the following morning.

  “Good morning, baby Hannah.”

  “M, M, Maaa.”

  Monica scooped up Hannah for her first feeding since the prior night. “You must be starving, sweetheart,” she said, bringing the infant with her into the bed. “Can you grab me a diaper and some wipes, honey? They’re in the guest room.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Brian replied. He stretched and rolled out of bed, pushed his feet into his slippers, and made his way past the baby’s room to the last room along the hallway. It was of decent size, about 10 x 14 feet, but there was hardly any room to spare within it, as it resembled the stockroom of a department store. Monica had accumulated and obsessively organized every conceivable baby-related product, as if all of the manufacturers were threatening an extended strike.

  On the near wall were multiple rows of Pampers boxes and baby wipe dispensers stacked waist high. A work desk on the far side of the room was completely covered with other healthcare products, including almost everything Johnson & Johnson had ever created for newborns: moisturizers, diaper rash ointments, baby gentle shampoos and soaps. There were infant acetaminophen drops, a tube of teething pain gel, liquid glycerin suppositories, and antibiotic cream. The desk’s chair was the keeper of the Deluxe Infant Healthcare Kit, an infrared ear thermometer, and Safe Baby nail clippers. In a word, Hannah was covered.

  In the event that breastfeeding did not succeed, Monica had used a bureau top to store a substantial supply of baby bottles and liners, a bottle warmer and cleaning brushes, along with numerous cans of infant formula (both powdered and pre-prepared) and rubber nipples. Two months earlier Monica had stood in a pharmacy for over an hour with an aching back arching against her seven-month amniotic sac, confused by the vast variety of nipple angles, sizes, shapes, and flow speed. These options were made even more challenging by the marketing ploys the manufacturers had concocted to entice the buyer. Could her baby really benefit from the “active latch” or “natural wave peristaltic” properties? They sounded impressive, but who knew? She decided to research this later, and bought them all.

  Monica had received two baby showers, one given to her by her colleagues at the school, and one from her friends and relatives. So she had received a huge number of gifts. The clothes, she had washed, double rinsed, dried, and stowed in the bureau and closet of the baby’s room. All the baby toys that weren’t needed for Hannah’s room were neatly arranged on the guest bed. There were crib mobiles, rattles, stuffed animals, a playmat, blocks, teethers, and plush toys, including a pink star that played “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

  Brian surveyed the jam-packed room with amusement and called out, “Monica, I forgot, what aisle are the diapers in? And I need a price check too.”

  When he returned with the diaper, Monica got busy changing her baby. In the meantime, Hannah played her parents’ recent conversation over in her mind: “Can you grab me a diaper and some wipes, honey? They’re in the guest room.” Followed by: “Monica, I forgot, what aisle are the diapers in? And I need a price check too.”

  Hannah noted that one common talking noise in those two sentences was “dy-per.” So perhaps “dy-per” was the object that Monica wrapped around her that made her bottom feel better after she soiled the one she was wearing. She would double-check that when the word came up again, to confirm she was right. When Monica had finished diapering her baby, she re-dressed her in a short-sleeve, 100% cotton onesie with cute smiling butterflies on it. She positioned Hannah to nurse.

  “I’ll get a pot o’ joe going,” Brian said.

 
“Thanks, can you put on the TV too?”

  Brian and Monica owned two high-definition TVs. They kept a modest-sized one on a bureau near the foot of their bed, and kept the other larger one in the living room.

  The bedroom TV flickered on brightly and caught the corner of Hannah’s eye. She willfully forced her head to move away from Monica and swivel toward the glowing screen. The colors were exceptionally vivid, and Hannah’s eyesight was just sharp enough at this point that she could make out most of the objects appearing. She keyed in on the fact that even though this appliance was an inanimate object, it was full of talking noises, just like the people around her.

  A miniature, flat man said: “Although there’s crazy weather in other parts of the country such as the Midwest right now, we are basking in the glow of sunshine.”

  A miniature, flat woman sitting beside him said: “Just look at that shot over downtown Boston! That’s why we all love it here. Meteorologist Cindy Brewer, tell us more about it.”

  A different small woman said: “It’s that time of year, isn’t it? We’re just moving right into spring here. You know, on my way in today, I saw the schoolkids are finally getting outside for recess again after being cooped up all winter long. They seemed very happy.”

  Miniature, flat man: “I’ve been cooped up too. Let me out, please!” (Sounds of laughter.)

  Hannah’s stomach demanded input, so she turned to nurse at Monica’s encouragement, but she remained in full “record” mode to absorb the TV’s audio. This was all true bliss to her.

  Brian returned with Monica’s coffee, which was in a special mug that he had bought to surprise her with. It was oversized, with text on the side: “I’m a mom. What’s your superpower?” Monica chuckled at the sight, then became teary-eyed.

  “Thanks, Bri’, that’s sweet. I hope I’m up for the job.”

  “You’re doing fine. You’re both doing fine,” said Brian. “Man is she chug-a-lugging that milk. Look at her go,” he laughed, watching Hannah’s firmly furrowed brows as she suckled away. In actuality, the nursing was easy for her; it was the TV that was commanding her attention. There was so much going on, so many new spoken words and random sounds. There were also musical note sequences in repeated arrangements that were pleasurable to hear and which made her want to rock back and forth.

  When the feeding was finished and Monica had dabbed her lips dry with a tissue, Hannah adjusted her view with the meager neck strength she had so that she could both watch and listen to the TV at the same time. She noticed that while the things she was seeing appeared real, they were being presented in a different format—only two dimensions. Hannah deduced that these objects were not actually there, but were merely a moving picture of reality, much like a painting she had seen in the hospital—only this was in motion and came with sound. How that was possible needed to be figured out later. For now, Hannah simply immersed herself in the splendor and gratification of the TV’s stimulation through words, pictures, and sounds. Like a detective, she voraciously consumed the stream of information, eagerly sifting through it for any evidence that could help attach meaning to what she was seeing and hearing.

  “Look, Brian,” said Monica, “you got to see this.”

  The TV was showing a funny clip of an enormous pig, resting on a bed under a blanket, with only its snout sticking out. The animal’s owner had placed a chocolate chip cookie directly under its nose to get a reaction. The pig’s nostrils were like two large eyes, examining, flinching, and flaring in response to the sweet aroma for about half a minute before the hog’s entire head emerged from beneath the blanket to scoop up the treat.

  Anchorwoman: “And lastly, this was sent in by one of our viewers. This is Phoebe, the pig who evidently has a soft spot for chocolate chip cookies.”

  Anchorman: “Don’t we all?”

  Anchorwoman: “Yes, but this makes me want to cut back somewhat.” (Laughter)

  Hannah watched as the pig happily devoured the snack. She wondered if that cookie tasted as good as her last meal.

  A commercial then came on featuring a man walking around a house with his wife, young daughter, and a dog, while a catchy jingle played.…

  “877-321-LUVA. We saved so much money buying our floors at Luva!” The man on the TV screen exclaimed exuberantly. “I shopped around first, to make sure I got the lowest price. And right now LUVA is offering 60 percent off all their carpets and hardwood floors, as well as incredibly realistic and durable laminate flooring. LUVA guarantees the materials and the installation date, and it’s all top notch, professional, and comes with a lifetime warranty. The job was handled really fast, and it was surprisingly affordable. My whole family, and yes, even our dog loves these floors! You might say we are all…floored!”

  “Oh, that pun really hurt,” Brian cringed. “How can anyone get so excited about a floor? Calm down, bud.”

  After about a half hour, the TV was switched off. It was a major letdown to Hannah, but she decided not to voice a complaint. She could instead concentrate fully on reviewing all of the new material she had accumulated. She closed her eyes to reduce outside stimuli, and began replaying everything from the moment the device had been turned on. At first she analyzed the data at about half of normal speed, searching for repeat words and phrases, and trying to match the sounds to the pictures. Her analysis was then increased to standard speed, double speed, and finally triple speed. From this process, she gleaned some early successful results.

  Hannah had heard the talking noise “koo-keez” at the hospital when Brian and Monica were eating, so she was able to connect that word to “cookies” in the pig clip. She felt that somewhere in the exchange between the two small sitting people was probably the name of what the rotund living entity was, but she would have to wait until that type of thing was discussed again before she could confirm a match and identify the correct word. For now, the word probably was either “vyoo-erz,” “fee-bee,” or “pig,” which were speech noises she had never heard before. But she had noticed that often the sound preceding the name of a key object was “thuh,” such as “thuh bed,” in which case “fee-bee thuh pig” rendered “pig” as the most likely candidate.

  “My whole family, and yes, even our dog loves these floors!” the man in the commercial had said, patting his high-spirited dog on the back. That was a match with, “Good dog, Pudge,” which she had heard from Tony Silva. Hannah identified the word “dog” as the furry creatures who waved just like the nurses had when she left the hospital, except dogs used a backassward arm.

  All these words and pictures were stored in Hannah’s memory bank for future reference, replay, and analysis. During this closed-eye review period, Monica and Brian once again enjoyed the mistaken impression that their infant was sleeping peacefully, like a baby.

  “Sweet dreemz, bay-bee gurl,” she heard her father whisper as both parents hovered over her, tucking her in.

  The lights went out, and a faint voice went unheard. “Mmm...ma...mmm...mo...monc….. b...bwy...”

  Chapter Ten

  The Tiny Pupil

  The next two weeks were extremely busy and rewarding for Hannah. As she neared her first month of life, her intellectual development was proceeding at an astounding speed. Each single day she was making more progress than a newborn would typically make in a week, and in some aspects, a whole month. Her advances manifested in physical ways as well. For example, seeing others move their heads about, and move their limbs, prompted her to make conscious efforts to mimic them. Thus her muscle tone and strength were improving much faster than that of an average baby.

  Unfortunately, because of a chronic sore throat and laryngitis brought on by a virus, Hannah had completely stopped trying to vocalize the words she was learning, so her progress with speech wasn’t noticed by her parents. But all the while, in her mind, she continued to practice and rapidly build her vocabulary.

  One mystery she
figured out involved objects appearing to change size, which had confounded her since her first days in the hospital. As she studied this phenomenon further she began to recognize that the size of an object was dependent on whether it was moving toward her, or away from her. A hand reaching to touch her cheek grew huge right before touching her skin, then shrank when it was withdrawn. She finally deduced that the objects themselves were not actually changing size at all. Objects brought closer to her, or which she herself was moved toward, simply appeared bigger because they were taking up a larger portion of her field of vision. Now appreciating depth perception and relative motion, she began to use these concepts to judge the actual size and distance of objects around her.

  She spent a great deal of time each day in the family’s living room where her parents and occasional visitors kept her generously immersed in language. The high-definition TV in this room was on almost all the time as well, which provided an additional treasure trove of data and mental exercise for Hannah. Each hour of programming exposed her to about 6,000 words on average, and the barrage of crystal clear visual images gave her an opportunity to tie together sounds and objects, even sounds and letters appearing on the screen. Amazingly, while fully absorbing and storing information from the TV, she had an uncanny ability to isolate and capture all of the room’s other conversations that were within earshot.

  “Oh, honey, your Aunt Doris called while you were washing up. She’s dying to come over and see the baby again,” said Brian. “Wants to bring us a lasagna. The lasagna part sounds good, at least.”

  “What about the baby’s temp, though? Shouldn’t we put her off a couple of days?”

  “I think Hannah’s fine,” answered Brian. “Just a lil’ flushed.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not doing that ‘Ma-ma, ba-ba’ thing anymore. I don’t want to push her.”