Released (Caged #3)(83)

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“It’s okay,” she said with a sigh. “Like they say, it hurts to laugh.”

Baby Katie must have shared the discomfort because she let out a tiny cry. I jumped up and looked over at the nurse to see if she knew what was wrong. All I got was a patronizing smile and a word of reassurance as she walked out to get someone to help with nursing.

“Do you think she’s hungry?” I asked.

Tria shrugged.

“I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

Taking her from Tria for a moment, I held Baby Katie like a loaf of bread and rocked a little, but she didn’t stop crying. I checked the diaper, but the thing was so hi-tech, I couldn’t tell if it was wet or not.

“I think she is,” I said.

“Let’s give it a shot.”

Breastfeeding a baby has got to be one of the most natural things in the whole world. It’s absolutely beautiful and perfect and as magical as people tell say. If I hadn’t believed in a god, watching my baby’s mother feed my child was enough to make me a believer.

Why the f*ck no one ever tells a new mother how hard it is to get the hang of it is beyond me.

Tria and Baby Katie spent the next two hours with various nurses, lactation consultants, La Leche League reps, and tears before they finally managed to get two tits worth of milk into our new baby. Then another nurse came in and asked how many ounces Baby Katie had, and the look Tria gave her was enough to send her running.

By the end of our stay, we were going to alienate the entire hospital staff.

The next nursing session wasn’t a whole lot better but only lasted about half as long. Unfortunately, it came about twenty minutes after the first one. Tria was exhausted, and the nurses were driving her nuts. With tears in her eyes, she turned to me, and I lost it.

“Just get the f*ck out, all right?” I snapped. “All of you!”

I don’t know if the nurse thought I was joking or what, but she ignored me. I started heading around to the side of the bed where she stood. A second later, my father was there at my side, stopping me from whatever I was about to do.

I wasn’t sure what it was, either, but in retrospect, it probably would have been bad.

The next thing I knew, Dad ushered everyone out of the room—family included. He gave me a quick nod before shutting the door and presumably stood guard outside of it. Tria and I were suddenly alone with our baby.

I pulled the rolling chair up close and reached out my hand to Baby Katie’s cheek. Her head turned a little toward me, and her mouth started working like she wanted to eat, but she just couldn’t get the hang of it.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” Tria sobbed quietly.

“Shhh,” I said to both of them. “Remember what the doctor said? Babies get all this extra fat and stuff while they’re inside of you so they have time to learn to eat and whatever until the right kind of milk comes in.”

“Instead of colostrum,” Tria said with a sniff.

“Right—that stuff. So we just have to be patient and help her get it, right?”

Tria nodded, sniffed again, and took hold of her breast in her hand. I lifted Baby Katie up and we worked together until she finally managed to latch on the right way. Tria nearly started crying again in relief, and she finally got to sit back and relax for a few minutes until we switched sides and started all over again.

It was a little easier that time, at least.

Once she was full, our daughter fell asleep there on the pillow with Tria’s nipple half in and half out of her mouth.

“I don’t want to put her down,” Tria said as she glanced at the bassinet.

“I know,” I replied. “But you need to sleep—we both do. She’ll be right there—you can watch her the whole time. I already told them she’s staying in the room with us. I’m right here, too, so nothing’s going to happen to either one of you.”

Tria nodded reluctantly and surrendered Baby Katie to the bassinet beside the bed. I sat back down on the rolling chair, propped up a pillow so I could basically lay half of me down beside Tria without bumping into her and tearing her incision or anything. It was a tight fit, but there was no way I was going to sleep on the nasty little Flip-n-Fuck they had for new dads in the corner of the room.

With Tria’s head on my shoulder, we both watched out daughter intently. Despite the exhaustion from the last twenty-four-plus hours, neither of us could stop watching her long enough to close our eyes and fall asleep.

“She’s so pretty,” Tria whispered.

“Beautiful,” I said. “Like you.”

“She looks like you.”

“She has your eyes.”

“Your hair.”

“There isn’t enough to tell,” I said with a quiet snicker.

“It’s definitely your color,” Tria insisted. “And her ears—those are your ears.”

“They’re kinda pointy at the top.”

“The nurse said that would go away in a couple of weeks.

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t admit that was I a little disappointed. It made her look a bit like an elf or a pixie, and I thought that was kind of cool.

We watched her in silence for a few more minutes. The next time I glanced at Tria, her eyes were closed, so I wrapped an arm above her not-so-bulging stomach and settled against her on the bed. As soon as my eyes closed, I was out.