Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Taking a deep breath, I walked to the toilet.
By the time I emerged, neither Kane nor Mabel were anywhere to be seen. A rush of pure, unhinged panic hurtled through me.
I rushed down the stairs—as much as one could rush with their vagina stitched together—and found Kane in the kitchen with my mother, Maisie and Mabel.
Maisie was holding Mabel, Kane with two cups of coffee.
He was somehow dressed.
The thought of getting dressed and dealing with Mabel seemed impossible to me. I guessed he was Kane ‘The Devil’ Rhodes, so he could do such things.
Meanwhile, I could barely make it down the stairs.
Then again, he’s not the one who just gave birth, I reminded myself.
“Chef, I was going to bring this up,” Kane chastised, frowning with concern. “The doctor said you’re not supposed to use stairs.”
I tore my eyes from Mabel, seemingly content with my experienced sister, my heart yearning to hold her even as I enjoyed the break. I blinked at the sun streaming through the windows, remembering my lack of sleep then Kane’s words.
I took the coffee thankfully. “Our bedroom is on the second floor; I have to use the downstairs,” I sipped the liquid, hoping to hell it would work its magic.
Was it safe to have caffeine while breastfeeding? I searched my brain for the information, but all there seemed to be inside of it was that toy monkey playing the drums over and over again.
“You don’t need to come down the stairs,” Kane argued, breaking my mind-monkey’s rhythm. “We’ve got you.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Lounge around in bed all day?”
“I wouldn’t call it lounging; I think they call it recovering from having a baby,” Kane said dryly. “Remember the triple five rule? Five days in bed, five days on the bed and five days near the bed.”
Even though the concept of bed seemed incredibly enticing right then, I knew from the previous night that bed did not equate sleep. And feeling stuck in a horizontal position when I wasn’t sleeping, even if I was recovering, made my toes itch.
“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” I snapped. “I’m not spending ten days in bed.”
I hadn’t spent longer than one day in bed in my whole adult life, and that was when I had walking pneumonia, which interestingly, it is quite hard to walk around with.
Kane looked like he was going to argue, but my mother stepped in.
“Darling, Kane said you had a hard night and you didn’t sleep,” she deftly changed the subject. “Are you okay?”
The simple question asked in a genuine, loving and concerned tone, mixed with my mother’s caring gaze and all the other ingredients in the postpartum soup made me, to my horror, burst into tears.
My mother scurried over to envelop me in her arms. I held onto her and let my tears come. I felt exceedingly small and weak and helpless.
“Oh, darling.” My mother stroked my head, emotion bursting from her voice. “It’s the baby blues. You’re going to get just a touch if you’re lucky, although even a touch feels like you’ve been run over by a freight train.” She kissed my temple, brushed away my tears.
“It doesn’t help that you haven’t slept a wink,” she added.
“I couldn’t,” I half sobbed, struggling to get myself under control. “She needed me. It seemed like the only thing I could do was put her on my boob, and I don’t even think she got anything.”
Maisie came over, cradling Mabel as she reached out to rub my arm. “It’s just her stimulating your milk production. It’ll ease up when it comes in. Well, until cluster feeding, but we won’t talk about that right now.”
My eyes bugged out. “Yes, let’s talk about that right now,” I demanded. I looked at Kane, eyeing me over his coffee cup with concern. “Where’s your notebook? We’re getting all the information.
“Sweetie, take a breath,” Mom cooed. “You don’t need all the information right now.”
“I do,” I argued. “I need all of the information. Because I can’t do this. I can’t be an amazing mother like you two.” I waved my hands at them. “I can’t do any of it.”
To my horror, more tears streamed down my face.
“Babe, when you first walked into a professional kitchen, did you know how to make a consommé?” Maisie asked, transferring Mable to her capable father’s arms.
I frowned at her, interested that she even knew what a consommé was. “No, not really.”
“Exactly,” she said, gently walking me to the breakfast nook. “You don’t know anything about being a mother because it is your very first day.” She sat me down. “This is not something you’re expected to be an expert in. Not that there is such a thing as being an expert mother. This is something you mold into. And you will. For now, let me and Mom make you food, enjoy the sunrise, watch the ocean and hold her. That’s all she needs. The rest will come.”