by C. M. Wright
I hiss when he touches me down there. He explains that my little Alyssa had torn me pretty good and that the stitches he had to put in might sting and pull a bit.
Naw, really? Thanks for telling me that, Doc. Never would have figured that one out on my own.
Dustin squeezes a tube of what looks like clear jelly into one hand and I watch as that hand goes where no man has gone in a very long time other than Dustin, and a burn like I've never known before forces my body to climb up to the head of the bed, my legs pulled against me tight and a look of murderous intent toward the damn doctor very clear on my face. I suck in rapid breaths and my hands clench in tight fists to the sheets and blankets covering me. My eyes tear up and I let loose with more swear words than any one person should even know.
“You even fucking look as if you're going to touch me again, I'll kill you!” I snarl at the doctor who's standing at the end of my bed with one large gloved hand raised in the air, glistening with the vile gel, and the tube raised in the other. His eyes are about as wide as they can go, and his mouth is hanging open.
“Dude. It's just Aloe Vera,” he says with a confused look on his face.
“Dude. How bout you give me that shit, and I'll rip the hole in the head of your d–”
“Canada!” Will practically shouts at me. “No more swearing in front of our daughter.”
Looking over at my little angel lying so peacefully in my husband's arms makes me instantly forget the damn doctor, the pain, and the burn.
Okay. No, it doesn't; but maybe it's not as bad as it was before.
******
Four days later, and I was beginning to question who this brat really belongs to. She doesn't cry. Oh, no! She freaking howls. Loud. She can be so pleasant and happy, and then turn around the very next second and be the psycho baby from hell. Although it seems to be she turns on the charm when others are around.
I have to face the facts: my daughter is a manipulative, sneaky little girl!
Must have gotten that from her daddy.
My breasts hurt, my nipples are so close to being cut off with the first blade I can get my hands on. All this little twit wants to do is eat! And I know she's getting plenty, as her weight is steadily increasing. Before long, she's going to be a fat little mass of screaming flesh.
Dustin has assured me that she's fine, but I have doubts about the doctor's sanity, and even his medical degree right now.
Really!
How could any sane person be around this kid and say she's perfectly normal? None of my boys were like this!
Will blows my complaints off; but then again, it's not like it's his boobs she's especially fond of. My mom and ma pretend to sympathize with me, but I know they aren't really listening to me. It's all about their precious little baby granddaughter when they come to visit.
No! I'm not jealous of her. For God's sake, people! I'm simply exhausted, sore as hell, and maybe even a little worried that something is wrong with her.
Do people with worms eat like she does? Maybe she has something like that?
It's now been a week since this first began and today, when my daughter and I were alone, someone finally walks in on us and realizes maybe things aren't as okay as they thought. Dustin opens my door and walks into a scene that makes him take a step back.
I'm sitting on the bed, leaning back against the raised mattress, holding my daughter in the air in front of me. She's doing her howling routine, and I'm searching intently for the alien that I know is inside her to show through. It isn't that hard to imagine, with her face all screwed up into this ugly, angry expression.
She wants to eat again; but I had only just finished feeding her from both breasts not even five minutes ago. I know she's getting milk, because I've actually squirted it across the room to make sure. She doesn't spit much up when I burp her, so it's going somewhere! She isn't colicky or jaundiced.
She's just a stubborn little pig of a girl!
I can only imagine what Dustin must have thought, walking in on that scene. Actually, I don't have to imagine, as he finally sits and talks to me after having a nurse remove my pissed off bundle of “joy”.
He pulls his chair up close to my side and takes my hand. The expression on his face, one of seriousness and deep concern, almost cracks me up.
Of course, if I start laughing, I know I won't stop. Ever. I honestly think I'm losing my damn mind!
“Canada, I need to ask you a series of questions and I hope you will answer them all honestly,” he begins.
I nod and give him what I hope is a reassuring smile, but it probably looks more like the Joker's smile from Batman.
Dustin's questions start out rather easy and he asks me a lot of questions that make it seem as if he's finally listening to me and is just as concerned over my daughter's attitude and hunger-issue as I am. He even listens to me about the pain I'm having with my breasts; but then he goes a bit too far.
“Do you have thoughts of hurting yourself or Alyssa?”
Instantly, anger sends my blood boiling inside my veins.
“Are you out of your damned mind!” I hiss at him. “Besides wanting to slice my nipples off because no one freaking believes me when I tell everyone how much they hurt, there is no way in hell I'd ever hurt myself or my own daughter!”
“Calm down, Canada,” Dustin pleads with me as he stands and pushes me back against the bed when I try to get to my feet, which I haven't been allowed to do just yet after the birth and the coma. “You wouldn't respect me very much if I didn't do my job, and you know it! I'm not accusing you of anything, I just need to know if there is anything I can do to help.”
I give up trying to get out of bed and collapse back against the firm, but thick, mattress.
“If that's the case, then why haven't you been listening to me this whole time? Why haven't you done anything?” I feel anger towards myself at this point, because I know the tears are coming.
“I'm sorry, hon. I really am.” I see the sincerity and shame on his face and can hear it in his voice. “I've been a shitty doctor to you lately, and an even shittier friend. I should have listened to you.”
“Look, you haven't been exactly shitty, just busy, I guess. But now that we've had this little heart-to-heart, you think you can help me out?” I bare my breasts and hear his gasp when he sees the evidence of my daughter's torture.
My nipples are cracked insanely bad, and there's even a few thin lines of dried blood that I hadn't yet had time to clean off of me from her last feeding. The guilt Dustin feels is showing clearly on his face; and although it's hard for me to see because I know he's normally an amazing doctor, at the same time, I feel a bit justified.
Dustin promises to get my little problem taken care of immediately and leaves the room in a rush. I barely have time to cover myself back up when he's back again with Terry, his receptionist-slash-wife who is carrying a large tub of something. Dustin opens my gown again and Terry gasps. Then she gives her husband a lovely little ass-chewing of her own. I decide not to intervene and let her at him, not to make things worse for Dustin, but because I'm more curious about what she's got in that tub.
Finally, she spins the cap off and yanks on a latex glove. Then she scoops her hand in and pulls out a blob of light yellowish cream. I yelp when she slaps her hand down on my breasts and begins to slather it all over me. It's freezing cold, but soon becomes so soothing that I cant help but sigh in relief. I offer her a grateful “Thank you,” before settling down deep in my bed. I beg Dustin to let me sleep for a while and he readily agrees, after asking first how long it's been since I had had any real sleep. With my daughter's need to eat non-stop, I haven't gotten more than a few hours a night since she was born. And that was only when she was sleeping. And not a few hours all at once, either.
Dustin promises me he will look her over more thoroughly and will have the nurses take care of her for as long as I want to sleep. I only need to call out to John, our Zombie Zapper, who still hasn't left his post outsi
de my room, whenever I'm ready for Alyssa to come back in with me. I grimace at the thought of the pain I go through when I have to feed her, but Dustin catches my expression and assures me things will be different.
On that promise, I fall quickly into oblivion.
Chapter Seventeen
Several hours later, I wake slowly and pleasantly for the first time in days without a baby howling at me. Feeling refreshed and ready to face the world, I decide I’m done lying in this bed. I call out for John and he immediately opens the door. Anxiety radiates off him, and I assure him I'm fine and offer a smile to prove it. He creeps in on hesitant feet but stops after only a few steps.
“John, could you please find Dustin and tell him I'd like to talk to him? And tell him I'm not quite ready for the baby yet.”
“I will find Doctor Dustin right now!” he cries out much too loudly, then disappears from the door with his cape flying out behind him.
I laugh and shake my head at the man. He might still scare me a bit, but his loyalty and all the help he's been can't be dismissed or denied. I swear to myself that I will pay him back. Somehow.
I manage to get myself to the side of the bed and watch my feet dangle a few inches above the floor as I wait. Dustin bursts in full of energy and smelling amazingly like the air outside, crisp and clean, and I long to be free to come and go whenever I please too.
Well, that will never happen if I don't get off my ass and out of this bed.
“Dustin, I want a shower and I want to get dressed. I want to walk around, go outside, and get my damn life back.”
“Then get to it. It's about time,” he teases me.
I flip him the bird and grin, then grasp his hand tightly as he helps me to my feet. Instantly, I sink back to the bed when my head spins one way and my stomach the other. After a few moments, Dustin asks if I'm ready to try again and I nod. I suck in some air before slowly easing my way back into a standing position. The dizziness begins again, but I wrap my arms around Dustin's neck, determined to ride through it and come out on the other side.
“I knew it! I just knew the “good doctor” was trying to steal my woman this whole time.”
The sudden and unexpected voice at the door causes both me and Dustin to jump, and I even let out a squeak of alarm. Still holding tight to Dustin's neck, I slowly turn my head to see Will standing just inside the door to my room, his hands fisted on his hips and a huge mischievous grin on his face.
“If I could, I'd kick your ass right now,” I mutter past the nausea.
Will crosses the room to stand next to us and begins rubbing my back in slow circles.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asks Dustin.
“Once the dizziness passes, you can help me walk her around a bit. Depending on how she feels after that, she might still want a shower. I think it would be better if you helped her with that, just in case I decide to run off with her,” Dustin teases Will.
I release a shaky laugh into the doctor's chest and say, “Really, Doc? I think you've already seen almost all of me by now.”
After a moment's thought, I add, “To be honest, I cant think of any part of my body you haven't seen. And you haven't run off with me yet! Why is that?”
“You can't run yet, love. That's the only reason,” Dustin assures me, but I catch the roll of eyes he shoots to Will when I turn my head and look up at him.
Both men laugh when I tell him he's a piss poor liar, then we begin the long torturous walk from the edge of my bed to the nearest wall, which only happens to be about five feet away but feels more like a couple miles. The more I try to hide the pants and gasps, the louder and harder they get. When I finally get back to my bed, I'm pretty sure I'm half dead.
Damn it all to hell! This isn’t working out quite the way I'd pictured and hoped. I thought a lap or two would be a bit rough, but then I'd be perfectly fine and could get out of here.
Apparently, being in a coma for almost five months can really screw with a person's ability to walk, even though many people made sure I had several daily “exercises” while I was out. My legs feel like jello - wobbly and not truly connected to me. Dustin assures me I will improve quickly the more I try getting up and walking as much as I can; but lying here, my legs shaking hard enough to rattle the bed and my head still spinning, I can't imagine it ever getting easier, or ever being able to do this without a lot of thought, planning, and strength I doubt I will ever have again.
The doctor allows me another hour to eat and recuperate before bringing my daughter back to me, and leaves Will and I alone. I make room for Will on my bed and snuggle into his chest as I beg my body to relax. He rubs my back and kisses the top of my head, whispering words of encouragement and love.
“Babe?” I pull my head away so that I can look up into his chocolatey-brown eyes.
Mmm, chocolate. What I wouldn’t give–
“Yeah, precious?” he asks, pulling me away from a fantasy land where everything is made out of the sweet, sticky, yummy goodness, even the zombies!
Don't think I wouldn’t be gnawing down on that shit!
“Do I stink?” I ask him when I finally remember what it was I'd wanted to ask him.
Will stays silent long enough for me to take the hint.
“Well... I mean... You just had a baby and was in a coma for months, it's not as if you could get more than a bed bath. And we made sure you did!” he quickly assures me.
I bury my face back into his chest and moan.
“Great. I probably smell worse than the oldest zombie,” I mumble into his shirt.
He laughs and I feel the vibration on my face.
“I wouldn’t say you're that bad. Another day or two maybe; but not yet.”
“Asshole,” I reply, then wiggle even closer to him. His arms tighten around me and his strong arms make me feel loved, even if I do reek.
Much too soon, the door opens and Dustin comes breezing in, holding my little holy terror, who just happens to have her mouth closed for once. I feel a jolt when I see that her eyes are open. I assumed she must have been asleep since she wasn’t screaming and hadn’t a boob in her mouth. Will and I pull apart and I feel a sense of loss when he leaves me alone in the bed. He helps me into a sitting position, propping the pillows behind me until I’m relatively comfortable, then takes Alyssa from the doctor.
I watch my husband and daughter as he carries her to the rocking chair and sits, then begins to rock and talk to her. I look back at Dustin and only then notice the large pink diaper bag hanging from one of his shoulders. He slides the strap off and sets the bag on the bed next to me and begins to unzip it.
“This should help you out quite a bit, Canada. You and your daughter,” he tells me with a smile. He then begins pulling out several items. A breast pump, a dozen tiny sterilized glass baby bottles with matching nipples and rings, more of that blessed cream Terry had coated me in, and two pink pacifiers.
My eyes fill with tears of relief and gratitude, but my mouth is unable to utter a word, so choked up am I at this point. I can hardly believe these common items could possibly make my life so much better, but I know they will.
They have to, or me and a certain little someone are going to need more time-outs like we had today. The pain in my breasts is finally beginning to ease up, but just looking at the breast pump terrifies me; yet, when I look at my daughter's deceptively cute little mouth, the terror becomes magnified.
Breast pump it is, little psycho one.
Having almost an entire day free from the leech that is my daughter, my breasts are becoming heavy and full from the milk building up. I've already begun to leak so I know I have to release some of the pressure before a whole new pain starts. My fingers tremble as I hurry to grab the pump, and having no shame or embarrassment, I tear open my gown and press the manual pump tight against my aching swollen boob. I force myself to relax, knowing it's supposed to help lessen any pain, but I feel almost panicky at the thought that I will be forced to actually feed Alyssa dir
ectly and I just can't do that right now.
A bottle is quickly filled and I start on another. Dustin assures me I can pump as much as I want and whatever Alyssa doesn't eat can be stored in the hospital's fridge. And then he surprises me by giving me a gift I will treasure for life – he gives me permission to exclusively bottle-feed Alyssa with my breast milk, something my past baby doctors discouraged, but I suppose even the strictest doctors know when a mother has had enough.
I carefully place the pump and bottle that's only half full at the moment aside and pull Dustin in for a grateful hug. When he steps away from me, I begin laughing so hard until the stitches twinge down under and I abruptly stop. Dustin's grin slowly disappeared as I was laughing at him, and when he turned to my husband, Will began with his own snickers. Looking down, Dustin spies two very damp spots where my breasts leaked onto his light blue dress shirt, and he pulls the fabric away from his skin.
“Oh gross, woman!”
I giggle but with less enthusiasm this time, knowing the pain that comes with having too much fun. Dustin continues to hold his shirt away from himself and leaves the room, saying nothing more. I turn to Will as I replace the pump and decide to ask him the big question that I've been dying to ask, but have been too nervous about his possible reaction. I figure taking advantage of the fact that he's holding his precious baby girl is the perfect time to bring it up.
“So,” I begin, but pause to swallow the lump that's suddenly formed in my throat. “What's the plan with Jake?”
I immediately see the gentle softness leave my husband's eyes which change to a much darker color. He looks down at our daughter, and I prepare myself to give him a piece of my mind if he even tries to use her presence as a way to put off answering; but apparently he decides for himself that using her as a deterrent wont work.