Infinity(39)
After a measure of time that I can’t calculate, Mary hands me a pink blanket with a precious little face peeking out. She has on a pink-and-blue striped hat to keep her head warm. My heart clenches at the sight of her.
“She’s probably hungry. Why don’t you try placing her mouth near your nipple, and see if she’ll nurse?”
Mary helps get her arranged, and since I’m still naked except for a scrub sheet that’s been placed over my bottom half, there are no gowns to get in my way. Mary shows me how to hold the baby with one arm, and feed her my breast with the other hand.
When she opens her tiny little mouth and takes my nipple, I ask Colin if he wants to watch. My poor, overwhelmed husband still doesn’t answer me.
Mary informs me she’s just over six pounds and seventeen inches long. She’s tiny, but very healthy. I ask Mary what time she was born at, and am shocked to find out that it’s after midnight. She smiles knowingly at me and says, “Caroline you’ve been in labor at this hospital for more than twelve hours.”
I had no idea. I shake my head in confusion. “How long has Colin been here with me?”
She checks her watch. “I’d say for about five hours.”
In my mind, everything happened so fast that I would have thought he just made it for the delivery. Where was he all that time that I was in labor?
****
After our daughter has taken both breasts, Mary asks, “Caroline, there’s a waiting room full of people. What would you like for me to do?” She cuts her eyes toward Colin.
Reading her message loud and clear, I say, “Can you take the baby to the nursery and let them view her through the glass? Tell them that we’re doing great, just really tired, and are going to bed. If they want to visit tomorrow, ask them to please text us before coming up here.” I make the decision on behalf of Colin. I know that there’s no way he can deal with family right now.
Mary smiles at me, and pats my hand as she looks towards Colin sympathetically.
I nod my head, and give her a knowing wink. “I’ll take care of it.”
Colin hasn’t moved from his fixed pose since he assumed it. I don’t know what to do with him at this point, so I decide to take advantage of the “complimentary” toiletries that the hospital is probably billing my insurance company hundreds of dollars for.
I gingerly roll to my side and swing my legs off the edge of the bed. I know without trying that my abs are way too sore for me to use them to stand up. I grip the bed for support while I try out my sea legs. I’m a little wobbly, but I can shuffle.
And that’s what I do. I shuffle into the bathroom, using the restroom for the first time since the baby stopped sitting on my bladder. It feels glorious. Then I step into the warm shower, and exhale as the hot water washes over me. A shower has never felt this good. My body feels battered and bruised, but strangely enough, I feel like I could conquer the world right now. I just did the impossible. I gave life to a human being. I’d like to see Batman, with all of his gadgets, do that.
I take my time, lathering my hair using my fingernails to work the soap into my scalp, and then rinsing out the soap. The conditioner has a hint of mint, and I work it through my hair using my fingers as a comb. As I wash my body, I note that I can see my feet over my five-month pregnant-sized stomach. Thank goodness Janis had warned me that it takes a while for your abdomen to appear normal again. If not, I probably would have panicked at this point.
Once I’m gloriously clean, I realize with much despair that I don’t have anything to put on. I wrap myself in a too-small white threadbare towel, and walk back into the hospital room, feeling much better but terribly sad that I don’t have my pretty PJs to comfort me. The thought of putting a hospital gown back on makes me frown.
Then, I spot my hospital overnight bag resting at the foot of the bed. On top is a note from Brad: Can’t have a baby without your hospital bag. XXXOOO, Guncle Brad. Best. Assistant. Ever.
I unzip my brightly-colored floral-print tote and spot the PJs that I purchased a couple of weeks ago. I carry them, along with other necessities, back into the bathroom to dress. Once the door is closed, I drop my towel and slide on a pair of my favorite pregnancy panties, and slip the light pink, silk pants on my legs, and button the top across my straining breast. I make quick work of throwing my wet hair in a clip that I found in my travel bag and slip back in the hospital bed, pulling the sheets over me.
Colin still hasn’t moved, or spoken, or hell, at this point, he may not have breathed. I’ve left him alone, to just be, long enough. This baby doesn’t have a name. She doesn’t even have a place to sleep. We were going to take care of all of that this week. I get it. A lot has happened in the last seventy-two hours. Now, it’s time for him to be my partner, and this baby’s daddy.