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The door opens, a nurse is carrying him with a smile. “He’s good. All checked out and he passed with flying colors. Do you want to try feeding him?”
I nod and take him eagerly. So small, he’s only five pounds and nineteen ounces. His weight is precious in my arms. He’s beautiful, I see Daddy in his face although he somehow has dark blue eyes. A little wail comes out of him.
I’m trying to remember Mother’s instruction, don’t do just the nipple—it’s painful that way. Focusing on him, I try to shut out the nurse staring at me. Daddy reads me and shifts to hide me from view. Oh, ouch. The sensation is odd. He won’t latch, when he finally does, I squirm from how uncomfortable I am.
“It can be a problem with babies born at this time to have a hard time sucking. Their lung development is an issue. It’s why the doctor gave you the steroid shot when you first came in. We have milk pumped we can feed him from mothers donating. For his health we recommend it over formula but understand if you don’t feel comfortable using another mother’s milk.” She offers.
I look to Daddy. “I don’t know what to do. He needs to eat and I’m in pain.” I admit.
Daddy answers for me. “Please give him the milk over formula.”
“Coming right up, along with a breast pump. It will help relieve the pain and you can use your milk to feed him.”
“What do you think of having Mother help you? Or Amaya?” The question is gentle.
“I think Mother.” Hoping she doesn’t resent me asking.
“She’s out in the hall. I’ll be right back.”
He’s back in minutes. Mother is smiling wide. “I hear he’s giving you problems. Your husband was the same.” Her finger is gentle as she runs it over his cheek. “What are you needing my dear?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t really like how it felt but I’m in pain. And I know he needs the milk.” Guilt at admitting I didn’t like how it felt to feed my own baby has tears spilling over.
“It’s okay, dear. My goodness it is a change and a lot of getting used to.”
The nurse is back with a breast pump and a bottle. Daddy takes the bottle and the baby and retreats to the chair beside the bed. Mother takes the breast pump. “The one I bought you and is of course at home is far superior but this will do the trick.”
I’m in agony at the embarrassment of my body being handled by Mother with the nurse looking on.
“Nurse, if you’ll go get some bottles for her to fill.” Daddy nods at the door.
She takes the hint and leaves.
Oh crap, the machine hits exactly the right spot. The sucking sensation is odd, and kind of painful. It takes forever for one bottle to fill. In that time, Daddy manages to feed and burp the baby and he’s fallen asleep.
Pride at filling the bottle is lost in the disappointment of it taking so long. I also hate the feeling of the plastic but it’s a little less weird than when I tried feeding the baby.
The next few hours are a blur. I only manage to fill another bottle. Mother hugs me before I go, promising she’ll be close by if I need her.
He sits down at the edge of the bed after putting the baby in the clear bassinet thingy beside the bed. He runs a finger over the baby’s tiny hand. “So, what are you thinking now for a name?”
Studying him, I sigh. “I want to name him for you. Aleksander.”
His jaw clenches tight. “Okay.”
“Is it really?”
An exhale of air. “It is. I’m happy with the name.”
“How bad would it be, if I don’t breast feed?” I hear the words but had no idea they came from me. It was a thought I was too afraid to put into words. What kind of mother didn’t want to feed her baby?
He catches my chin and brings my eyes back to him. “It wouldn’t be bad at all. As important as the breast milk is, he will survive without it. Once we leave the day after tomorrow, we can either purchase breast milk or formula. Everything is new, and this can be overwhelming. If you need to take one element away for it to be manageable then that’s what we do.”
“Are you sure?” Guilt consumes me.
“Talk to me, baby. What is it you don’t like? It seemed like you didn’t have as much discomfort while you were using the pump. Or am I wrong?”
“When he’s trying to feed it feels too much like another…person—even though it’s not. It feels wrong though. Using the pump as uncomfortable as it is, with it being plastic it doesn’t feel wrong. I’m a bad mom.” I shake my head.
