by April Wilson
I climb out of bed, feeling weary and exhausted, and join them. “Is there anything you don’t do well?” I ask, smiling up at him.
“I had six younger siblings,” he reminds me. “I know how to take care of babies. Didn’t you ever do any babysitting when you were a teenager?”
Thinking back, I realize I’ve never been around children. “No. Never.”
“For years, as a kid, I was either helping my mom diaper or feed a baby. Dad worked two jobs to support the family, so that left me as the oldest one at home to help out.”
Shane pops the bottle into the baby’s mouth and takes a seat on the sofa while the baby drinks his milk. I grab my breast pump and join him there, watching him watch the baby guzzle down his breakfast.
Shane talks to the baby, smiling and cooing at him as he sucks on the bottle. Halfway through, he lifts the baby up to his shoulder and pats his back until a surprisingly loud burp startles us both.
“That’s my boy,” Shane says, smiling proudly. He leans down and kisses the baby’s forehead, then settles Luke into his arms to resume the feeding.
“How can you be so chipper at four o’clock in the morning?” I say, shaking my head.
Shane shrugs. “Our son is awesome. What can I say?”
* * *
Three hours later, I’m awakened again by snuffling little cries of hunger. When I sit up, I’m surprised to see Cooper standing beside the bassinette.
“Shh,” Cooper whispers, holding his finger to his lips. “I’ll take this one. Is there a bottle in the fridge?” He points at the fridge in our suite.
“Yes.”
“Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll change him and feed him.”
I fall back to the mattress, my eyes so heavy I can’t keep them open. Shane groans in his sleep and pulls me close.
It really does take a village to raise a baby.
Chapter 31
Beth
Just three hours later, the baby is fussing again, ready for another feeding. I realize I didn’t pump at his seven a.m. feeding which means we’re short a bottle now and my breasts are so full, they’re about to explode. The sound of the baby’s crying causes that warm flush to hit me again, making my breasts ache as my milk suddenly comes down.
I glance over at Shane, who’s still sound asleep. I don’t blame him. Our days and nights have been turned upside down the past couple of weeks, and he’s been running himself ragged, taking care of me, taking care of the baby. Shane needs sleep.
Since I’m wide awake, I might as well get up and take care of the baby so Shane can rest.
I head to the bathroom first to empty my bladder and brush my teeth. When I reach the bassinette, Luke’s staring up at me with wide eyes, kicking his legs and waving his arms.
He’s so cute I can’t help smiling. “Hello there,” I whisper.
His gaze is wide and unfocused, but at the sound of my voice, he turns his head in my direction and stills, as if listening.
I reach down and stroke his cheek. “Do you recognize my voice? I’m your mama.”
He starts kicking again, his arms moving all over the place, and I smile. “I bet you’re ready to eat, aren’t you?”
He extends one of his little arms in the air, then draws it back toward his face. As his fist brushes against his lips, he opens his mouth and begins squawking.
“All right, keep it down. Let’s not wake up your daddy.”
I pick him up, his little body warm and cuddly in my arms, and carry him to the nursery. I know there’s a nursing pillow in there, and of course the delightfully comfy rocking chair. Since we’re short a bottle and my boobs are about to burst, I decide I’d better give the nursing thing another try.
“But first, a diaper change,” I murmur, laying him on the padded changing table.
I haven’t actually changed very many diapers yet. There’s always been someone ready to jump to the task, and I’ve taken the coward’s way out and let them.
“I’m sorry,” I say, as I remove the baby’s sleeping gown. “I guess I haven’t been a very good mom to you so far.”
I untape the wet diaper and pull it back just enough to take a peek inside. “You aren’t going to pee on me, are you?” I’ve heard all kinds of horror stories about what can happen when you change a little boy’s diaper.
Keeping him partially covered, just in case he decides now would be a good time to pee, I clean him thoroughly with a wet wipe. I also check his umbilical cord stub to make sure it’s healing well.
After I put on his clean diaper and a fresh onesie, we nestle together in the rocking chair. I prop my feet up on the foot stool and position the baby on the nursing pillow, just like the lactation consultant showed me.
I unfasten my bra and offer him a nipple, coaxing him into what I think is the right position. “Here you go,” I tell him, practically holding my breath as he opens his mouth wide and nuzzles my nipple. Come on, sweetie, you can do it.
He tries valiantly to latch on, but he keeps slipping off me. Come on, Luke. Please.
He makes another go at it, and I try to help by holding my breast still for him. By now, he’s frustrated and hungry, and done messing around. He hasn’t quite worked himself up into a crying spell, but he’s getting close.
Because he’s stressing out, now I’m stressing out, which probably isn’t helping the situation. But still, I keep trying. When he finally latches on and starts sucking, I relax into the rocker as I feel my milk coming down in a rush. I sigh in relief and watch him suckle.
I rock us gently as he nurses, a few minutes on one breast, then a little break to burp him—the importance of which he doesn’t seem to appreciate—then a few minutes on the other breast. He’s nursing like a champ now, pulling and tugging on my nipple with glee.
I stroke his soft, silky tufts of hair. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the best mom,” I tell him, my voice little more than a whisper. “It’s sort of complicated, but I promise to do better.”
He glances up at me, his little fist pressing against my breast as he suckles.
I hum as he nurses, picking out the gentle melody of a lullaby I remember from my own childhood. Gradually, the sucking slows, his little tongue fluttering against my nipple, and eventually his mouth goes slack and he releases me. I watch him for the longest time as his eyelids open and close, fighting gravity as sleep pulls him under.
I hear a quiet sound behind me and glance back to see Shane standing in the nursery doorway, watching us with a very satisfied, if sleepy, smile on his face. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers, and his hair is sleep-tousled. He must have just woken up.
“I’m sorry. Did we wake you? I tried to keep him quiet.”
Shane comes into the room and kneels beside the rocking chair, one hand on the back of my neck while he gently strokes the baby’s forehead with his other. He lifts those beautiful, bright blue eyes to me and gives me a handsomely crooked smile. “God, I love you so much.”
I smile, feeling my cheeks heat and figure I’m probably blushing. “I wanted to let you sleep,” I tell him. “You’ve been doing so much for me, for us. We came in here so we wouldn’t wake you.”
He smiles at me, his eyes suspiciously damp. “Watching our son nurse at your breast has got to be the most moving thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Now I’m definitely blushing.
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, then traces the shape of my ear with his fingertip, sending delicious tingles down my spine. At least part of my body has come back online.
“Jamie just called,” he says. “He and Molly want to know if they can come over this afternoon for a visit.”
I nod. “Of course they can. Luke needs to spend some quality time with his Uncle Jamie and Aunt Molly.”
Shane lights up as he grins at me.
“What?” I say, laughing at his expression.
“You just called him Luke.”
“So? That’s his name.”
“Honey, tha
t’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call him by his name.”
I open my mouth to contradict him, but then I snap it shut, as now that I think back, I’m afraid he’s right.
He smiles and leans forward to press his lips gently against mine.
* * *
While Shane takes a shower, I bring Luke with me to the kitchen so I can make a cup of French Vanilla decaf. When it’s ready, I carry my son and my coffee to the sitting area so we can relax while we wait for Shane to join us for breakfast.
Oh, my. When I come around the sofa, I spot Cooper and Sam lying there sound asleep, spooning in their PJs. Cooper’s arm is around Sam’s waist, and he’s holding him close, probably to prevent Sam from falling off the sofa as it is hardly deep enough to accommodate two grown men comfortably.
Quietly, so as not to wake them, I sit in one of the chairs and sip my coffee while I hold Luke in the crook of my other arm.
I’m sure both Cooper and Sam have been run ragged the past couple of weeks, running errands for us, helping with the baby. When Luke was in the NICU, they spent most of their waking hours at the hospital helping us watch over him.
About the time I finish my coffee, Shane comes into the great room wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, a damp towel thrown across his shoulders. “I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I’m starved. What sounds good for breakfast?”
“Shh,” I whisper, holding a finger to my lips. I point at the sofa, and he comes to investigate, peering over the back of it at the two sleepyheads.
“Well, isn’t that cute?” he says.
“What time is it?” Cooper grumbles, lifting his wrist to check his watch. He groans. “I must have fallen back to sleep after the seven a.m. feeding.”
Cooper’s hand slides down to Sam’s hip and he gives it a squeeze. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
Sam opens his eyes and groans, then rolls up into a sitting position. His top knot has come loose, and his red hair is mussed. Quickly, he finger-combs his hair, and then twists it back into a neat bun and ties it off with a hairband. “Hey, princess,” he says, smiling at me. “How’s my little buddy doing?”
“He’s fine.” I smile. “He nursed this morning.”
Cooper and Sam both eye me in blatant surprise.
“He nursed like a champ,” Shane says, coming over to me to lean down and kiss the top of Luke’s head. Then to the guys, he says, “Jamie and Molly are coming over this afternoon. FYI.”
Cooper groans as he rubs Sam’s back. “Afternoon? Crap, we haven’t even had breakfast yet.” He gives Sam a quick kiss, then heads for the kitchen. “Omelets okay, guys? Coffee and toast?”
“Sounds good to me,” Sam says.
“Sure,” Shane says. “Thanks.”
“I’ll help,” I offer. I’m a parent now, so I really do need to learn how to cook.
Sam comes to me, his hands outstretched as he reaches for the baby. “Come to Uncle Sam.”
I follow Cooper to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”
“For starters, grab a dozen eggs out of the fridge.”
While I get the eggs, he pulls a large mixing bowl out of the cupboard and a giant whisk from the cutlery drawer. “Crack the eggs into that bowl and start whisking.” He watches me a moment, then says, “I’m proud of you.”
I smile. “For what?”
“For nursing your son. Good job.”
“I wanted to from the beginning, but it was just too stressful when he couldn’t latch on. Plus, I felt like I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.”
“Well, you figured it out, the both of you.” Cooper heads to the fridge and pulls out cheese and veggies and begins prepping the ingredients. “You have a beautiful son, Beth. Congratulations.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
Shane walks into the kitchen and grabs a coffee mug from the cupboard and pours himself a cup from the pot. “I think I had something to do with that.”
“With what?” Cooper says.
“Making that beautiful baby boy.” Shane leans over and kisses the top of my head. “Of course, Beth helped.”
Shane sits at the breakfast bar and drinks his coffee, reading a copy of the Chicago Tribune, while I help Cooper prep the ingredients for the omelets. Sam sits across the room making baby sounds with Luke cradled in his arms.
This moment is perfect, a sublime picture of domesticity. I close my eyes, thanking my lucky stars that Luke is okay and out of the hospital. When I glance at Shane and catch him watching me, I smile.
While the omelets are cooking, I excuse myself to get dressed. We have a few minutes before breakfast will be served, so I take a quick shower. It’s so good to be home. Our walk-in shower is decadent, and I’ve missed it. I wash all over, gently and carefully in certain places. My belly is still soft, but it’s tightening up a little bit more each day. The lactation consultant at the hospital said nursing would help with that.
As I wash, I touch myself experimentally, just to gauge how well my body is healing. I’m still very tender down there, but each day it’s a little better. Right now, I can’t imagine ever wanting to have sex again. I really hope that passes.
Once I’m dressed, I head back to the great room to find the dining room table set. Someone carried in the portable baby swing from the nursery and set it by the table so Luke can nap while we eat.
Shane sets the swing between his chair and mine, so we can both keep an eye on the baby. Halfway through the meal, when Luke wakes up and starts fussing, Sam is the first one to jump up and get him.
“You’re going to spoil that baby, Sam,” Cooper says, shaking his head. “You can’t jump up every time he whimpers.”
“Yes, I can,” Sam says, returning to his seat with Luke in the crook of his arm. “He needs to know we’re here and that he can count on us.”
Pressing my lips together in an effort not to laugh, I sneak a glance at Shane, who’s shaking his head. “Cooper’s right. That baby’s going to be so spoiled.”
The elevator chimes, and a moment later Molly and Jamie walk into the great room, their arms linked as Molly guides Jamie toward us. Molly’s holding a little gift bag.
“Who’s going to be spoiled?” Jamie asks.
Shane stands and picks up his empty breakfast plate. “My son, that’s who. He’s got four adults waiting on him hand and foot.”
“Make that five,” Molly says, as she hands me the gift bag. “I’ll wash my hands so I can hold him.”
While they’re washing their hands, I open the gift bag and pull out an adorable stuffed teddy bear, very soft and floppy, and a darling blue sleeper. “Thank you, guys,” I say, when they return to the table.
“You’re very welcome.” Molly holds out her hands to Sam. “My turn,” she says, grinning.
Pretending to grumble, Sam hands Luke over to Molly.
“Hello, you adorable little thing,” Molly says, rocking Luke in her arms, patting his bottom. She leans down to kiss his forehead. “You smell so good.”
Jamie, who’s seated next to Molly, holds his hands out after a few minutes. “It’s my turn.”
Molly carefully transfers Luke to Jamie’s arms. Everyone watches, captivated, as Jamie gently explores Luke’s face with his fingertips, his touch light as a feather as he maps out each little feature.
The smile on Molly’s face as she watches Jamie with Luke is bittersweet. I can guess what she’s thinking. Jamie will never see his nephew’s face. The explosion in Afghanistan that stole his eyesight took so much more from him than just his vision—it took these special milestones from him, too. Ones that the rest of us take for granted.
Jamie kisses Luke’s forehead. “Congratulations, you guys,” he says. “I’m sorry for what you went through, but I’m grateful that you and the baby are all right.”
With the same aplomb as he does everything else, Jamie looks perfectly at ease holding an infant in his arms.
Molly moves to stand behind Jamie, so she can put her arms around hi
s neck. She leans closer and kisses his cheek. “You look good with a baby in your arms,” she says to him, winking at me from across the table.
“Is that a hint, Molly?” he says, kissing Luke again.
Chapter 32
Beth
“Can we see the nursery?” Molly asks.
“Sure,” I say. “Follow me.”
Shane carries Luke, and Jamie follows Molly and me to the nursery, his hand on Molly’s shoulder.
While Molly and I gush over the adorable outfits hanging in the closet, Jamie joins Shane in the doorway, and the two brothers talk quietly.
When Luke starts squirming in Shane’s arms, I check the time. “It’s not time for him to eat again.”
Jamie lays his hand on Luke and pats his diaper. “I think he’s due for a diaper change.”
“I think you’re right,” Shane says, laughing as he wrinkles his nose.
“I’ll do it,” Jamie says.
Shane looks at his brother. “You’ll do it?”
“Sure. I’ve never changed a dirty diaper before. This will be a new experience.”
“Just watch out he doesn’t pee on you,” I say, as Molly and I escape to the great room, leaving the guys to deal with a stinky diaper.
* * *
We grab some glasses of freshly-squeezed lemonade, courtesy of Cooper, and sit out on the balcony to enjoy the sunshine and watch the boats on Lake Michigan. We have a lot of catching up to do.
“How are you, really?” Molly asks, reaching over to touch my arm.
My throat tightens as recent memories resurface. “Actually, as of this morning, I’m doing a lot better. Luke and I had a breakthrough. He finally latched on, and I was able to nurse him.”
“Oh, good. That must be a huge relief.”
I nod, sipping my drink. “It is. I mean, everyone’s been really helpful, taking turns feeding Luke from a bottle while I pumped, but it’s a lot easier if I can simply nurse him.” When I realize what I’ve said, my stomach drops, and I feel the blood drain from my face. How could I be so thoughtless? “Oh, my God, Molly, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that.”