Page 152 of Moonlighter
“Here.”
And then I hear the best sound—a thin little wail. It’s the sound of victory. I flop back onto the gurney, sweating from every pore.
When I look up, Eric is there, holding a slimy, wet baby in two big hands. A nurse sweeps a towel underneath that tiny body, gathering her up and easing her into Eric’s arms.
“Oh, don’t cry,” Eric says, rocking her against his chest. “So—this is the world. It’s a little bright, and a little loud. But we got you. And you really won big in the mama lottery.”
Suddenly my eyes are fountains.
“Time of birth, eleven forty-two,” someone says. “Where’s the peds consult?”
“How much does she weigh?” I sob, hoping it’s enough.
“Who knows? We don’t have a baby scale in here. But God, that was fun!” the doctor says. “I should have been an OB. Come back any time.”
This is pure chaos, and I don’t even care. My baby girl is here. Eric has her in his arms.
We made it.
38
Janurary
Eric
I’m just finishingmy coffee when I hear Rosie begin to mewl from the crib. I set my mug down on Alex’s coffee table and go, because Alex is still in the shower.
“Hello, baby girl!” I say, entering the tidy nursery. Rosie’s early arrival caught us off-guard, of course. But now this room is ready, with a soft flannel sheet on the crib mattress and tiny diapers stocked beside the changing table.
When I reach the edge of the crib, she looks up at me, blue eyes blinking, little hands opening and closing rapidly.Pick me up, man, she’s saying.This nap is over.
I lean over the crib and lift her little body onto my forearm. “Look who’s getting heavy! Did you put on another ounce in your sleep?”
Rose looks up at me without comment. But that’s how it is with us. I do all the talking.
I lay her down on the changing table and unzip her pink sleeper. I trade the wet diaper for a dry one. But just as I’m about to zip her up again, I notice that Alex has laid out another outfit. It’s like a whole-body sweater in pink and gray stripes.
“Looks like you’re getting dolled up for company,” I say, grabbing the garment and holding it up. I have socks larger than this thing. There are snaps around the crotch and legs, so I carefully undo those. And there’s a single snap on the shoulder to widen the neck hole.
Hmm. I’m pretty good at the zip-up sleepers now. But this thing goes over her head?
“Okay, kid,” I say, easing her soft little arms out of the sleeper. “This would be easier if you could sit up.” I sort of prop her up with my left hand and then ease the sweater over her with my right.
She makes a noise of displeasure.
“Yup, just another second.” I tug the garment over her round little head.
When her face pops through, her expression is mildly accusatory.
“Don’t look at me, this was all Mommy’s idea.” I lay her down again and snap the crotch closed. But then I realize her arms are still at her sides, so I open it up again and poke around until I can ease those little hands down through the armholes. “Yes!” I say when she’s wearing the thing properly. “Did it.”
Rose is unimpressed, though. She’s hungry, and I’ve burned through all her goodwill with the sweater. She opens her mouth and howls.
“Okay, lady. No need to shout.” I grab the baby sling off the doorknob and drop it over my head, then I tuck her in and head for the kitchen.
“Someone needs a bottle,” says Tara, the young woman that Alex hired to come in and cook a few days a week.
Alex chose to hire help in the kitchen instead of hiring a baby nurse. “There will be nannies,” she had said. “But so long as I’m home, I want to do it all myself.” I would never question Alex’s choices for Rosie. But after I tasted Tara’s cooking, the wisdom of this decision truly became clear.
