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“Do you play football?” some smart-aleck resident asked, flirting with Dave. “Your son will be NFL.”
Ignoring her, Dave and Katrina held each other as the seconds passed, the NICU nurses and pediatrician grabbing the baby from the obstetrician and taking him to the baby warming table so they could examine him.
Katrina’s body trembled and Dave understood she was trying not to cry. “He’ll be okay,” he whispered.
The loud and angry cry of their son finally filled the room, and Dave lost control, burying his face in Katrina’s hair. She whispered to him, letting him have his turn, stroking the back of his head as she said, “He’s fine. Listen to him!”
The doctor finished stitching her episiotomy, and after cleaning Katrina up, they put her legs down on the clean sheets. The pediatrician walked over with the little bundle and offered him to Dave first.
“I think dad needs to see this,” the doctor said, winking at Katrina. “This kid is awake and alert. I gave him the highest APGAR score he can get at one minute. He’s fabulous.”
Looking into his son’s eyes, Dave bonded right away. This was his little boy. He looked like a regular baby except his eyes were the slightest bit almond-shaped and his little tongue stuck out of his mouth which Dave had read was common. The doctor pushed a chair over for Dave to sit while he held the baby down for Katrina to see.
Later, they’d say time was suspended for an unknown period; it had seemed like forever but was probably only a few minutes. They sat with their baby, examining him, while the world continued on without their participation. It was an amazing moment for them, their complete focus on the baby.
Hating to interrupt, the nurse wanted to take care of Katrina, and then she could try to nurse.
“It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but now there’s no way I wouldn’t try,” she said. “Are you on board with that, Dave?”
“Of course. Whatever you want is what I want.”
Preparing to share their room with the baby was something she’d left for the last minute. Now that they were home, the peace of the cottage surrounding them, they waited for a routine to unfold that she’d guard with tenacity. The problem was the routine would change from day to day, thanks to baby David, who ruled with an iron fist.
“It’s not possible for me to go back to work and not have some plan in place,” she said, loading up a cabinet in the master bedroom with baby supplies Dave had purchased from a long list Katrina had made.
Justin had built a special little crib that fit with an opening at the side of the adult’s bed and baby David would sleep there until he’d be okay in his own bedroom. Baby Tina had one just like it at Bayou Cottage.
“I completely agree,” Dave said. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”
Sputtering, she leaned over to kiss him.
“Don’t give me carte blanche,” she said, laughing. “I might bulldoze you.”
“Nah, I trust you,” he said, laying the baby on the bed. “Can I undress him?”
“Sure. You want to change him?”
“I just want to look him over. The nurse was always hovering over me when I tried to check him out.”
“You’re nuts,” Katrina said, cackling. “Go ahead. I have to find a box of onesies Maggie gave me.”
“Why’s Maggie giving you onesies? Doesn’t she need them for her own kid?”
“Rose got her a bunch of blue ones and Justin won’t let her put blue clothes on Tina,” she hollered from the nursery.
Maggie had given birth while Katrina was in New Orleans on bedrest.
“Whoa, look at this kid’s package! He’s hung!”
“Dave, put his diaper on before he pees all over you. All newborns look like that.”
“How do you know?” he asked, struggling to get the diaper tight enough so it would stay on.
“I asked the nurse,” she said, grinning.
“Aha! You thought the same thing I did!”
“You’re sick,” she said, giving him a playful swat. “Get him dressed. I want to go out back.”
