Page 44 of Knocked Up in Alaska

Chapter Thirteen

Lilah stroked the soft, smooth cheek of her nursing newborn and wondered how such a living, breathing miracle could have possibly come from her.

“She’s so tiny and perfect,” Izzy murmured from beside her, crouched by the pretty, light yellow upholstered rocker in her and Trace’s guest suite to watch her niece enjoy her dinner. Well, more of a snack, though Lilah considered the nursing lessons Bev had supervised at the clinic more like official meals. Either way, Shayla proved to be a genius at breastfeeding.

“Five pounds, nine ounces,” Lilah supplied, proudly. “Seventeen and three-quarter inches. She’s on the small end of average, but she’s a little early, and a first baby, and a girl, so Dr. Devan isn’t worried.” They’d watch the inevitable post-birth weight loss closely, but the instinctive way the baby latched on and fed reassured her.

“Knock-knock?” Bridget poked her head around the door.

“Come in,” Lilah invited.

Bridget hunkered down on the other side of the rocker and ran a fingertip over the curve of the baby’s ear. “She’s a beaut. And wow. Hungry. Look at her go.”

“Yeah. She has a lot of growing to do.” She smiled down at her daughter. “A lot of diapers to fill.” Luckily, she’d planned to stay here the night before, so all her things already filled the room.

A call from Bridget to Izzy during the time Bridget had flown Dr. Devan to Captivity had ensured that baby gifts for a shower she hadn’t even known was in the works were already set up and ready for use. Little Shayla had newborn diapers, wipes, a wipe warmer—talk about luxury—a small wardrobe of adorable, gender-neutral onesies, and a bunch of things she hadn’t even looked at yet. Even knowing it would be hours, post-birth, before Dr. D would discharge Captivity’s newest daughter and mother, Bridget, Trace, and Izzy had insisted on staying at the clinic until they got the green light, then bringing her and Shayla straight to the Shanahan house and snuggling them into the adorably appointed nursery.

Appreciation swamped her every time she thought of them. So many details, handled. It left her grateful and guilty at the same time. Grateful that she had such kind, supportive friends, and guilty because she couldn’t gauge how her part in Shay’s death would erode the bedrock of their friendship if they knew.

Very deeply, she suspected. All the more reason not to allow herself to become overly dependent upon their kindness. Yet she was dependent, entirely dependent, for an undefined period of time, because she couldn’t sofa-surf with Shayla in tow, and Lord knew how long it would be before Don repaired the cabin at The Castaway. Still, right now, ensconced in the guest room Izzy and Trace had transformed into a cozy nursery, with the lights low, a lullaby lilting softly from a fuzzy, plush sheep, and two of her best friends at her side, it was hard to unfurl herself from the warm blanket of her contentment.

“Does it feel weird?”

She looked over at Bridget, kneeling there covering her unfairly perky, not milk-swollen breasts protectively with her hands. “No. It feels…I don’t know how to describe it. There’s sort of a tingling sensation, like when blood rushes back to your hand or foot after your circulation’s been cut off. Also sort of a relief, like when you finally get to pee after you’ve been low-grade desperate for a while. It’s not super-comfortable,” she admitted, “but, so far, it’s not terribly uncomfortable, either.”

Her friend looked so relieved by the explanation it stirred her curiosity. “Were you afraid it would hurt?”

“Ah, no. I was afraid it might feel strange to have a baby sucking on your boob, when up ’til now, boob sucking was something done for…uh…” Bridget actually blushed. “You know.”

“I really don’t.” She shook her head. “What was boob-sucking done for?”

Izzy laughed. “For sex. I think she’s relieved to know breastfeeding an infant gives rise to different sensations than having a partner orally stimulate your nipples.”

“Oh.” She glanced back at Bridget and felt her own face heat. “Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t know. I’ve only done the one thing—the breastfeeding.”

Bridget’s eyes went round. “But…you’ve had sex.” She pointed to the baby. “Obviously.”

“In a hot tub, with a tipsy friend. We kissed some. We touched some. We had the sex. We didn’t exactly worship each other’s bodies.”

“Ew. Please. My brother…”

“I know. I know. All I’m saying is you may be asking the wrong person to compare the two experiences.”

“God, Lilah, you’re like a virgin mother.”

“I’m not a virgin.” She tipped her chin toward the baby. “Obviously.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not experienced. That’s what you mean.” Feeling inadequate, and defensive about it, she added, “I’m well aware.”

“Take the stick out of your ass. I’m not criticizing. You’re just in a very unusual position is all. I think it’s kind of cool, actually.”

“You do not. You’re the opposite of inexperienced. You have all the experience anyone could ever want.”

Izzy snickered at that, but Bridget laughed loud and proud. “I’m not sure that’s really a compliment, but no matter how you meant it, we’re not talking about me and my former free-wheeling ways. We’re talking about you. And you, Lilah, have a much more romantic soul—notwithstanding one night of cheap hot-tub sex with my brother. You’re a hearts, flowers, forever kind of girl, and I think it’s cool that when you find that hearts, flowers, forever guy, you’re going to get to discover all the, ah…let’s call them nuances…of sex, with him.”

“That’s a really good point,” Izzy agreed.

---