A Different Blue(132)

draped in seafoam green canopy, sprinkled in little pink flowers, like a little hill in

springtime. There were stuffed animals straight out of the movie Bambi lining the edges of the

room, and a giant white rocker brimming with flower-shaped pillows took up another corner.

It was absolutely enchanting. Every little girl should have a room like that. But it was the

baby in the crib that held my attention. She gurgled and kicked her chubby legs. The black hair

that she had at birth had morphed into a lighter brown, and she had easily doubled in size. I

had only seen her for a few seconds, but those seconds were burned in my brain. This baby looked

very different tfrom the image in my head. But her eyes were blue. She smiled and wiggled, arms

and legs churning, and I found myself smiling back, blinking through eyes that had suddenly

filled with tears. The regret that I had feared, that I had dreaded, that had kept me away,

didn't crash down on me like I thought it would. The tears in my eyes felt more like relief than

sorrow, and I clung to Tiffa's hand, grateful for her in a way I would never be able to put into

words.

“She is . . . so . . . so..” I stammered

“Perfect,” Tiffa finished, her own eyes shining with tears as she put her arms around me and

squeezed me fiercely. “Perfect. Dirty nappies and all. Let me change her bum so you can hold

her.”

In three months, Tiffa had become a pro, changing the diaper with deft hands and whisking it all

away while she cooed and talked to Melody, whose eyes stayed trained on her face. Tiffa let me

powder Melody's wrinkly pink tush, and we both sneezed loudly when I got a little carried away.

Tiffa laughed. “You do it just like Jack. He says you can never have too much baby powder. When

Daddy's on duty, Melody gives off a little fragrant poof every time she kicks.”

Tiffa scooped Melody up and set her in my arms.

“Here. You rock the wee one while I get her bottle.” Tiffa patted my cheek, dropped a kiss on

Melody's flyaway hair, and was out of the room before I could protest. I sat stiffly on the edge

of the rocker. Not counting the few seconds after Melody's birth, I had never held a baby. I

tried not to hold her too loosely or too tight, but her face wrinkled in dissatisfaction and her

lower lip jutted out, as if she were preparing to howl.

“Okay, okay. You don't like that position. We can adjust!” I rushed to oblige, holding her so

her head bobbed above my shoulder, one of my hands on her bottom, one hand pressed against her

back. She promptly latched onto my cheek and started sucking frantically. I yelped, pulling

away, and she reattached herself to my nose.

“Tiffa! Help! She's got my nose!” I laughed, trying to disengage from the little blood sucker.

She immediately started to wail, and I turned her around so she was facing outward, her head

against my chest. I bounced her a little and walked around the room, talking to her the way

Tiffa had.

[page]“Oh look, Melody. There are some baby bunnies! Little grey bunnies the color of Uncle

Wilson's eyes.” I stopped myself abruptly. Where had that come from? I moved onto other

exciting features of the room. “Oh, boy!” I continued in my syrupy sweet tone. “There's a

little chipmunk. He's looking for Melody. He sees you, Melody!”

Melody stopped crying, so I kept going, walking around the room, bouncing her in my arms. “That