Page 128 of Paternal Instincts
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You won’t.”
We sat on the couch, Juniper nestled in my arms for feeding time, my worrisome husband armed with a burp blanket to catch spit up should it happen. Quaid continuously stroked her mess of dark hair as she contentedly sucked down every ounce in the bottle.
“I think she’s got Doyle genes,” he observed.
“I think you’re right.” I had noticed at the hospital, and my mother had pointed out more than once how she looked like Kylee had when she was born. Amelia had simply smiled. “Are you disappointed that she’s not fair-haired and blue-eyed?”
“Not at all. She’s still my daughter. DNA changes nothing.”
Quaid leaned against my side, and we watched Juniper eat, marveling at the life we’d brought into the world. After her feeding, Quaid encouraged a burp and changed her diaper. The three of us lay together on the couch, having more kangaroo time. Skin to skin, heart to heart, and love in abundance. At some point, we would need to introduce her to the crib we’d bought, but that night, she slept in our arms, neither of us ready to let her go.
Quaid
Epilogue
“Did you get the bottles?”
“Yes, Quaid.” Aslan patted the swollen diaper bag he’d tossed on the couch. “All here. Bottles, soother, spit blankets, rattles, and college applications.”
“Ha ha. Extra diapers?”
“Yes.” He held up a finger. “The disposable kind because if you think I’m going to a restaurant and saving shitty cloth diapers for you to wash later, you’re out of your mind.”
I bit back a retort about cloth diapers being more economical and better for the environment because, to be honest, after almost two weeks of poop to my eyeballs, I was less enthused about them myself. It had been a good idea in theory, but the overwhelming reality of having a newborn at home, the lack of sleep, and the sheer number of diaper changes in a given day wore me out. Laundry was a chore that was quickly getting away from me.
“Change of clothes?”
“Three onesies.”
“Extra socks? She shit through two pairs of socks yesterday. Don’t ask me how. That stuff comes out like a cannon and ends up everywhere.”
Aslan chuckled. “Extra socks, undershirts, and a fresh pack of wipes in case she explodes and we have to wipe down walls.”
“Good.” I swiped a hand over my head, mussing my imperfect hair. I couldn’t think of anything else.
I stared at my daughter, who was wide awake in her bouncy seat, dressed for her official introduction into the world in a white summer dress with yellow baby ducks embroidered along the ruffled edge. Aslan had carefully clipped a matching barrette into her dark hair. She looked around, kicking her feet as she examined her world, jostling the seat in the process. She’d been more alert the past few days, soaking in her environment and focusing longer on objects and faces.
She sucked on her fist, still unable to locate her thumb half the time, her chin dotted with tiny red pimples from too much drool. She had a faint scratch on her cheek from where she had marked herself with a nail the other day. We’d tried putting baby mittens on her, but then she wailed because she couldn’t find her hands to suck, so I’d been fastidious about keeping her nails trimmed and filed, which was no easy feat since she squirmed a lot. I hated seeing her hurt herself, but I also hated making her upset.
Parenting was a learning process. Every day came with new challenges, but we were getting by. We had developed routines and were finding our groove. Neither of us had slept much, but we held each other up and kept going.
Oscar sat sentinel near the bouncy seat. He’d decided the baby wasn’t so bad—from a distance. Only when she spit up her formula or was eating did he risk getting closer. Ordinarily, he remained leery ofthe tiny human with no control over her limbs, who would randomly grab his fur if he was within range.
I retrieved a fallen sock she’d kicked off before kissing her nose and drying her hand on the spit blanket we kept within reach. I put her sock back on. “Be good for Papa, and I’ll see you at the restaurant.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“No.” I stood, glancing down at Juniper, my mind on the other baby born on the same day. “I keep putting this off. If I don’t go now, I might not. I need to do this, Az.”
He squeezed my hand, drawing me against his chest and kissing me deeply. “Don’t linger. None of it was your fault. You can’t keep blaming yourself.”
“I know. I won’t. I’ll be right behind you.”
I gave Juniper one last kiss and Oscar a scratch on the head before heading out. The baby shower started at three, but I left early, needing a head start so I could swing by the hospital on my way. After making a few phone calls, I learned that Baby Davis was still a patient in Sunnybrook Hospital’s NIC unit. After all that had happened, I felt compelled to visit and see how he was doing.
My credentials got me to the right location, and a kind nurse who remembered me said I could visit, but only because Baby Davis’s dad was already present and had granted me permission.
