Bundle of Trouble(7)

•CHAPTER FOUR•




The First Sleepy Week

Morning came soon enough. The hospital personnel checked out our car seat. Laurie and I were given a clean bill of health and released.

Panic.

There wouldn’t be any specialized nursing staff at home. What if Laurie developed a fever? Or wasn’t getting enough milk? How many wet diapers was she supposed to have?

Who was going to answer all my questions? I suddenly missed Nurse Giselle terribly.

Jim studied my face as he rocked Laurie back and forth. “We’ll be fine, honey.”

“At least I’m not considered a breastfeeding risk anymore.”

He laughed. The night before, I’d had a special session with a lactation consultant, and afterward they changed my chart from “poor” to “fair.” Laurie, on the other hand, had been upgraded to “good,” which made me very proud.

I slipped on my maternity jeans and grumbled at the fact that they still fit. I was hoping they would be so big that they might even slide off. No such luck.

I started to pack, jamming more items into the bag that was already full. With a little patience and some struggle, I managed to zip it closed.

I glanced up at Jim. “I brought extra stuff hoping I would be able to wear regular clothes out. But packed maternity stuff, too, just in case.”

He smiled. “You look lovely, Mommy. Now let’s get out of here.”

After a few newborn photos of Laurie and hugs with hospital staff, we scrambled into the car. Laurie felt extremely far away from me all the way in the backseat. I rode home twisted around in the front seat, watching her as though she were a fragile egg ready to crack over the slightest bump in the road.

Mostly we rode in silence. Exhaustion and excitement danced inside me.

Jim had only been able to take a week off from work. I had six short weeks of maternity leave from the large architectural firm where I was an office manager.

Now, more than ever, I wondered how I would be able to return to work. Jim and I both needed to work. We lived in one of the most expensive cities in the United States. But how could I leave my peanut for forty-plus hours a week?

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a homeless guy. My heart stopped. His red hair vaguely resembled Jim’s. His face was covered with a scraggly beard.

I whispered, “Is that George?”

Jim nearly careened off the road, trying to get a good look.

It wasn’t George.

The dirty, decrepit-looking homeless guy wasn’t George. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.




Jim called the medical examiner, but was unable to reach anyone. He got Nick Dowling’s voice mail and, at my prodding, left a detailed message about George’s various scars.

The week went by with no return call.

Home seemed different now. Everything was special. Laurie’s first home, her first dining room and living room. Her own bedroom, decorated in pink and mint green. Although I kept her bassinet in my room, so she spent her first sleepy week right beside Jim and me.

Unfortunately, she was sleepy only during the daytime hours and kept Jim and me, well really mostly me, up all night.

I was panicky about everything. Was she getting enough to eat? Why wouldn’t she sleep at night? Was it good for her to sleep all day? Would she scratch her eyes out with the little nails that grew immediately after I filed them? And most of all, was she still breathing?

Mom was over every single day to take care of “her girls.” On the day Jim returned to work, I tried desperately to get a little rest. I was barely awake when Mom arrived around 10 A.M., my arms and back achy from holding Laurie all night.

Mom eyed me up and down. I had on pink flannel pajamas with black French poodles and glow-in-the-dark Eiffel towers. I had worn the same pajamas all week.

“Kate, you look exhausted.”

Tears streamed down my face, landing directly on my fluffy blue slippers. “I know.”

“It’s nothing to cry about,” Mom said, alarmed. “Give me the baby and go get some sleep.”

“It’s not that,” I whimpered.

“What it is then?”

“I love her so much.”

“I know, dear.”

I clutched Laurie. “What if I do something wrong?”

“You’re not going to do anything wrong, honey. You’re going to be a great mom. You are a great mom.”

Mom hugged Laurie and me.

I felt better. The logical part of my mind knew that hormones were responsible for these tears, but that didn’t seem to make it any easier.

“Mom, do you love me as much as I love Laurie?”

“Yes.”

Tears welled again in my eyes. “I never knew.”

“I know.” She stroked my hair. “Go to bed. I’ll watch Laurie.”