that mean exactly?”
“You take off your shirt, and we unwrap him. You lay him on your chest, skin to skin.”
“Okay,” I say hesitantly. However, if it helps him, I’m all in.
“Let’s try to get him to eat first.” She hands me a tiny, odd-shaped bottle. “Hold him up a little, like this,” she demonstrates. “Good, now place the bottle to his lips. It’s instinct for most babies. Some of them can be stubborn, but looks like your little guy is a natural.” She beams down at him.
And he is. As soon as the bottle touches his lips, he knows what to do. “How much does he eat?”
“We’ll start with a few ounces every few hours. You need to make sure you burp him after no more than an ounce at a time. The amount spreads out as he gets older. It’s extremely important during the early stages of life to make sure he burps several times throughout the feeding.”
I mentally catalog everything she’s saying. I wish Melissa were here, or my mom.
Shit! I forgot to call them. I’m sure they’re here by now. I’ll text them once he’s done eating.
“Let’s try that burp now, Dad.”
I pull the bottle from his lips, and he whines. I immediately start to give it back to him.
“No, he has to burp first. You’ll learn his whines and cries. He’s just hungry, but this is an important step in the process.
I nod and listen to instructions as she walks me through how to care for my son. If I weren’t so mesmerized by him, I’d feel like a tool. Who doesn’t know how to take care of their own kid? Maybe someone who didn’t have nine months to prepare like most parents.
I bite back that train of thought. I can’t be mad at her, not when she’s lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life. Besides, she was coming to me.
I can’t take my eyes off him as he eats. He has my nose and my chin. It’s surreal.
“Looks like he’s done. You want to try skin-to-skin?” she asks.
“Yeah, but I need to notify my family first. I’m sure they’re pacing the floors by now.” She takes my son from my arms so I can step out in the hall and make the call.
“Ridge,” Mom says in greeting.
“Hey, he’s here. Little boy, cute as hell,” I gush.
“How much did he weigh? How long? I need details.”
Damn, I should know this shit. “Uh, I don’t know exactly. It’s been crazy. I’m getting ready to do what they call skin-to-skin contact. Why don’t you all come down to the nursery?”
“On our way. We’ve been on the ICU floor, not sure where to go exactly with the situation.”
Yeah, this isn’t normal circumstances, for sure. “See you soon.”
Back in the nursery, the nurse points to an oversized chair and tells me to sit down and take off my shirt. Well, all right then. I comply, and she nods her approval. I watch as she unwraps my son then gently places him in my arms.
“Just keep his head supported and hold him close to you,” she instructs.
I do as she says, and the little man shudders and exhales a deep breath, almost as though he’s relaxing. My heart fucking melts. How can a tiny human bring out such emotion?
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a family out here looking for a Baby Beckett?” another nurse asks.
“That’s me, I mean him.” I point my chin down at my son.
“We have him as Baby Knox,” she tells me.
“Yeah, that’s his mom’s name, but my last name is Beckett. We’re not married,” I explain.
“I see. Well, we’ll have to keep our records as Baby Knox until the results are back,” she says, frowning.
I’m sure she’s afraid that I’m going to freak out on her—and if this were any other situation, I would have. But right now, all that matters is that this little guy is healthy, and getting his momma to open her eyes.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “That’s my family, so can they come in?”
“No, but you can bring him to the window. You can either carry him and continue how you are, or we can wrap him back up and wheel him over
“You take off your shirt, and we unwrap him. You lay him on your chest, skin to skin.”
“Okay,” I say hesitantly. However, if it helps him, I’m all in.
“Let’s try to get him to eat first.” She hands me a tiny, odd-shaped bottle. “Hold him up a little, like this,” she demonstrates. “Good, now place the bottle to his lips. It’s instinct for most babies. Some of them can be stubborn, but looks like your little guy is a natural.” She beams down at him.
And he is. As soon as the bottle touches his lips, he knows what to do. “How much does he eat?”
“We’ll start with a few ounces every few hours. You need to make sure you burp him after no more than an ounce at a time. The amount spreads out as he gets older. It’s extremely important during the early stages of life to make sure he burps several times throughout the feeding.”
I mentally catalog everything she’s saying. I wish Melissa were here, or my mom.
Shit! I forgot to call them. I’m sure they’re here by now. I’ll text them once he’s done eating.
“Let’s try that burp now, Dad.”
I pull the bottle from his lips, and he whines. I immediately start to give it back to him.
“No, he has to burp first. You’ll learn his whines and cries. He’s just hungry, but this is an important step in the process.
I nod and listen to instructions as she walks me through how to care for my son. If I weren’t so mesmerized by him, I’d feel like a tool. Who doesn’t know how to take care of their own kid? Maybe someone who didn’t have nine months to prepare like most parents.
I bite back that train of thought. I can’t be mad at her, not when she’s lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life. Besides, she was coming to me.
I can’t take my eyes off him as he eats. He has my nose and my chin. It’s surreal.
“Looks like he’s done. You want to try skin-to-skin?” she asks.
“Yeah, but I need to notify my family first. I’m sure they’re pacing the floors by now.” She takes my son from my arms so I can step out in the hall and make the call.
“Ridge,” Mom says in greeting.
“Hey, he’s here. Little boy, cute as hell,” I gush.
“How much did he weigh? How long? I need details.”
Damn, I should know this shit. “Uh, I don’t know exactly. It’s been crazy. I’m getting ready to do what they call skin-to-skin contact. Why don’t you all come down to the nursery?”
“On our way. We’ve been on the ICU floor, not sure where to go exactly with the situation.”
Yeah, this isn’t normal circumstances, for sure. “See you soon.”
Back in the nursery, the nurse points to an oversized chair and tells me to sit down and take off my shirt. Well, all right then. I comply, and she nods her approval. I watch as she unwraps my son then gently places him in my arms.
“Just keep his head supported and hold him close to you,” she instructs.
I do as she says, and the little man shudders and exhales a deep breath, almost as though he’s relaxing. My heart fucking melts. How can a tiny human bring out such emotion?
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a family out here looking for a Baby Beckett?” another nurse asks.
“That’s me, I mean him.” I point my chin down at my son.
“We have him as Baby Knox,” she tells me.
“Yeah, that’s his mom’s name, but my last name is Beckett. We’re not married,” I explain.
“I see. Well, we’ll have to keep our records as Baby Knox until the results are back,” she says, frowning.
I’m sure she’s afraid that I’m going to freak out on her—and if this were any other situation, I would have. But right now, all that matters is that this little guy is healthy, and getting his momma to open her eyes.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “That’s my family, so can they come in?”
“No, but you can bring him to the window. You can either carry him and continue how you are, or we can wrap him back up and wheel him over
Similar Books
