It’s been kind of easy to forget about the kitchen. I’m exhausted as hell, perched on top of the blankets with Cee curled into me. I’m lost in the curve of her impossibly long lashes, drunk on the smell of sweet milky breath and the contact of her untouched satin skin against my body – just so completely in awe of my gorgeous girl. I feel like I’m new and different and somehow better and that nothing will ever be the same.
I glance at Jim and his eyes are glassy with the same wonder I’m feeling, that thing I can’t quite put my finger on. Cece and I are perfecting our little tango of a skill we learned only an hour ago, this push-pull slippery act of feeding with a part of my body. Now that we’ve figured it out, it’s starting to feel more natural. She hooks her tiny hands around me and nudges into me with a force I never expected out of such a little thing. I hope she can’t smell that other baby…
Jim sighs beside me, soft and contented and exhausted all at once. I smile at the way he’s propped his chin in his hand, the way the cuff of his work shirt still peeks out over his black sweatshirt.
“Hey, Daddy,” I say softly, leaning over to press my forehead to his. I’m so filled with love for this man and what he gave me, what’s ours now – god, it’s ridiculous. No one deserves to be this happy.
“Wow, she’s really digging in, huh?” He watches in wonder at the way she can eat, his eyes glued to my chest. “Oh my god, what if she eats you?”
I slip my thumb across the delicate curve of her ear. “Baby cannibalism? Nah. Cece’s above that.”
“Does it hurt at all?”
Cecelia slurps right on cue and I chuckle. “It actually kind of tickles.”
“Those things are more amazing than I thought.”
I roll my eyes and then turn my attention back to my daughter, who lets me go and settles back into the crook of my arm. I watch her eyelids flutter and think that I want nothing more than to do this, to be with her, every single day until I die. I will never need anything else.
We put her in her crib, surrounded by the zoo of stuffed animals and pillows we’ve collected various places; Jim’s mom has supplied an enormous pink elephant that takes up half the bassinet. I lean against Jim, feeling the heat from his body soak into mine, the solidness of his chest, his arm arching low against my back. His hands trails along my side.
“Can we just stare at her, like, forever?”
I rest my elbows on the crib bar, watching my baby with her delicate paper-thin eyelids and her mouth turned up and sucking at the air in sleep. She seems too perfect for the world; I feel this incredible need already to protect her from everything that could ever hurt her. “I’m down for that.” Way down.
“I mean, she’s not even moving and she’s amazing.” Jim whispers low so he won’t wake her. “Imagine if we’d gotten one of those other boring babies we saw at the hospital.”
“Cee’s so much cooler.” I sigh. “It’s official. We have the best baby ever.”
We’re quiet just watching her and I feel like this will probably become a new thing with us. Jim and I, just being, our attention absorbed fully into someone else. We’ve never had that before, such a huge mutual affection for someone else, affection being an understatement. I already love it.
Soon I can feel the exhaustion set in heavily against the backs of my eyes; I yawn loudly enough to pull Jim’s attention from Cece.
“Hey,” he turns to me and swipes his hand gently down my side. “You should sleep. Remember you’re supposed to when she does? That’s what all the books say and as much as you don’t want to believe it, the books are right.”
“You are never going to let me forget that five to seven minutes thing, are you?”
“Eh. Maybe when we’re all done with kids.”
“She’s only been here twenty-four hours and you already want another one?”
Jim runs his finger down my nose. “That is precisely why I want another one. I mean, look at her. How could I not want, like, as many as you’ll make me?”
I let out a breathy laugh and nudge him in the ribs. “Let’s talk about this after I’ve fully recovered from labor.”
He wraps an arm around my waist to pull me away from the crib. “Recovery starts with sleep, Pam. So let’s sleep.”
I’m so torn between the sheets which sound like a dream and my baby who, right now, takes precedence over my needs completely. “But what if I miss something?”
“She’ll be here when you wake up…or I should probably say, you’ll be here when she wakes up. Cause I bet she’ll beat you.”
The room gets a little fuzzy and I know what my body needs more than anything right now is to get into a bed and not get up for about twenty years. I steal one more frame of my beautiful girl, curled up in the blankets with her mouth seeping drool.
“Ugh, look, she’s drooling! Jim! How can I sleep when she does something new every hour?”
“I promise you we’ll see her spit more than enough. Come on, Bees.” He steers me from the crib and I reluctantly follow, letting him half-carry me by my armpits without touching my abdomen. He made the mistake of doing that earlier.
Jim pulls back the covers and I sink down on the bed, feeling the sheets butter-soft and seeming to meld to my body. I’m sore in so many places and I should probably take pills and I want to see my baby again, right now. Maybe I’ll buy a cot and camp out next to her 24/7.
I make out Jim’s face above me and feel him press a kiss to my temple, soft and hot and mellow. I feel him lay next to me and this is all that I need, my husband next to me, slowly cocooning his body to mine, with our baby finally here and in the next room, quiet for now, and this perfect sleep slowly creeping in. I’m almost lost to it and then I feel his hands gingerly around me, not by my belly but right above it, and I’m big and poufy and sore but he knows exactly how to make me feel beautiful. He traces tender circles against my ribs, leaving a kiss on the back of my neck, in my hair.
“I’m so proud of you,” I hear him whisper and I spoon a little tighter to him. “You’re a woman warrior.” I don’t have to turn around to know he’s smiling at his own joke.
“I love you, silly,” I muster and then I sleep like a baby.
Soon enough I’ll be woken by one of my own.
