Page 93 of Ready or Not
Mercy snorts a laugh. “At least it wasn’t one of our faces.”
“You’re all reading the baby book when we get home,” Bishop growls, coming over and hip checking me out of the way. “Wash your hands and mark a pee and poop on the form. Her entire bedding is going to have to be changed.”
“I wanted to change that diaper,” I grumble.
Baby pee is nothing compared to being covered in blood, guts, or brain matter.
“Wash your damn hands, and you can sit next to Vale this time while she tries to feed her.” Bishop shoos me away with his foot.
“Fine, but no take backs.”
Chapter Thirty
Vale
“I’m pretty sure she’s starving to death,” I say, frowning at Aurora asleep in the baby cart. My boobs ache, my head hurts, and don’t even get me started on my vagina. I can’t even use the restroom without seriously wishing harm on whoever or whatever decided where babies would come out in order for them to be born.
“The amount of dirty diapers that kid had this morning alone says you’re wrong. You’re not failing to feed her.” Holt buries his fingers in the hair at the base of my neck and tilts my face to his. “But if you’re that worried, we can supplement with bottles. The nurses and the pediatrician have told you how well she’s doing.”
I nod as he brushes his lips over mine.
It’s all very overwhelming.
I’m terrified of messing something up.
She’s perfect.
Absolutely beautiful.
And tiny, completely reliant on us, and she’s only been alive for three days. It feels like they’re sending us home way too soon.
“I love you, sweetheart. We’ve got this.” Holt nuzzles his cheek to mine, running his fingers through my hair. “Marina will be around to help, but if you’re that worried, then giving her a bottle here or there won’t hurt until your milk fully comes in. The main thing is going with what makes you feel comfortable.”
I know he’s trying to help. It’s all things the doctor and nurses have mentioned. I’m just so overwhelmed.
“Doesn’t it feel like it’s too soon to go home?” My head shakes. “She’s not even supposed to be due for another couple weeks.”
I’m pretty sure I’m having a panic attack based on how my hands shake and the anxiety builds in my chest.
I can recognize that I’m being irrational, but my emotions are all over the place. It feels like we’re safe here.
“You’re doing everything right. We’re here to help,” Holt says soothingly. “Trust us to take care of the both of you.”
“I do,” I assure him. “It’s just hard. I have no idea how my mom managed all this on her own. Then thinking about her makes me miss her and?—”
“Knock, knock,” the nurse says, coming into the room. “I have your discharge papers, and these were delivered to the desk for you.”
Holt jumps up so quickly, it makes the bed bounce. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, but good God, the bouncing mattress doesn’t feel great against my aching bottom half.
Dr. Garza saw us this morning, and he made sure I have a prescription for pain medication to take at home for the first few days. I’m not sure if I have a low pain tolerance, but the stitches are a completely different type of misery from actually pushing out a seven-pound baby.
The nurse and Holt talk in hushed tones. I’m fairly sure the flowers aren’t from any of their families, based on the way he grabs them and stomps out.
The very sweet nurse comes over with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. They were sent up directly from the gift shop.”
Fear races through my system as I lean over, grabbing the rolling baby cart and pulling it closer. She’s still safe. She’s right here with me, sleeping like she has been.
Andrew made it inside the hospital to place that order.