Father figure... (for icanhazideas2)

Oct 04, 2010 21:02

Even though her eyes hurt to hold them open, even though every single part of her feels so heavy that she wants to just melt into the thin matress and never come apart from it again, she sits up in the bed, her new born baby cradled in her arms. It's a browny-yellowy-pinky color, and it's all wrinkled, like one of those ugly dogs. But when she very carefully strokes her fingertips over it's forehead, it's skin is so unbelievably soft, softer than her fur scarf even.

It's beautiful.

She's beautiful.

And she's her's. Theirs. There are parts of her body that hurt so much that she wishes she never owned them. But because of them, she and Peter are now complete. They now have a family.

It's all she remembers ever wanting and she's deliriously happy. Maybe that's the drugs they gave her. The doctor says she has stitches and has to be careful not to pull them. She doesn't believe that she'll ever move again anyway.

Baby Girl, as she's been thinking of her, is quiet and not doing very much at all. What are babies supposed to do when they are born? She brings her up to her breast, as the midwife advised her, and is overwhelmed by the surprise and pride that her daughter knows what to do instantly. That's how smart their little girl is! Only a few hours old and already she knows how to breast feed!

pete, baby

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