8. Baby Lessons
8
Baby Lessons
Does binge watching Grey’s Anatomy count toward my Continuing Nursing Education hours?
Natalie
I knocked on the door of the NFL player’s apartment.
There was a statement I never thought I’d see myself say. I didn’t usually hang out with the jocks. I tended to gravitate toward the nerds or those with slightly dark senses of humor. But, he seemed like a decent enough guy.
At least he was trying his best to be a dad.
The door swung open and I was hit with the sound of a baby wailing bloody murder. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days despite the fact that it had only been a few hours.
“Well, sounds like you’re jumping into this parenting thing with both feet,” I told him, stepping inside and closing the door behind me so that the neighbors wouldn’t hear a crying baby and come investigating.
I held out my hands, surprised that he hadn’t foisted the baby onto me the moment he had the chance. Despite the fact that she was screaming her little lungs out directly into his ears, he didn’t want to let her go. I felt my cold heart melt just a little bit.
“She won’t stop crying,” he told me, finally handing her over. He made sure I absolutely had her before letting go.
“What’s the matter, baby?” I asked her, not really expecting an answer, but it seemed the polite thing to do. I walked her over to the table, noticing several empty formula bottles on the counter. She wasn’t making the hungry cry, but rather the “I’m uncomfortable!” one. Time to figure it out.
First, I did the easy things. I burped her, getting an adorable little burp out of her that was worthy of a viral video, but it didn’t make her happy. I ran my hands over her fingers and toes, making sure that nothing was pinching her. Nothing seemed to be poking or irritating her skin, so I ruled that out.
I laid her down on the table and she erupted in screams. I felt terrible, but I didn’t pick her up, instead checking her diaper.
“Did you get a new size?” I asked, undoing the little Velcro straps and making sure that she was dry, and also checked for diaper rash. Her skin looked good and the diaper was clean, but far too big. I was rather impressed that he’d managed to get it to stay up on her.
“Blame Alex,” he mumbled, anxiously watching me over my shoulder.
I felt her stomach, making sure that things were working correctly. It made her cry harder until I picked her up and had her upright again.
“Has she pooped today?” I asked, rubbing her back. She stopped crying, instead making sad little whimpers that somehow broke my heart more than the sobs.
Dylan turned a pale shade of green. “Yes.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“There was so much...” He stared past me in a hundred yard stare that had me concerned for his mental health.
“What did it look like?” I asked, patting her back in small circles. She was the perfect size to snuggle and love on. And she smelled so good.
“Why in the world would you want to know that?” he asked, looking at me like I had three heads. “It was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life. And I had to touch it.”
I smothered a smile. “What color was it? Consistency?”
“You’re sick, you know?” he said, shaking his head. “It was yellow. And frothy. I didn’t know poop could come out in that color and texture until today...”
He trailed off again, turning a slightly darker shade of green.
“And how much was there? Did the diaper overflow?” I continued, already guessing what was making our little girl so upset.
“It can do that?” His expression changed to a new variety of horrified. I waited until he shook himself. “Um, no. It didn’t overflow. It was the size of a pudding cup? Oh boy. I don’t know if I can ever eat pudding again after thinking of that.”
I kept the small smile to myself. “I think I have a theory.” I went to the carpeted area of the floor and laid the baby down, making her unhappy again. With gentle fingers, I began to massage small circles on her belly. She stopped fussing, her face pinched and unhappy, but no longer crying. I cooed to her as I moved her legs like she was riding an invisible bicycle. It only took a few moments of massaging her stomach and moving her legs before she let out the biggest fart I’d ever heard.
The fart echoed through the room.
“How did that come out of such a small package?” Dylan asked, obviously impressed. “I thought little girls were supposed to be delicate and petite. No wonder she was unhappy!”
I kept massaging and moving her legs. “It’s the new food,” I explained as she let another man-sized fart rip out, this one a little wetter than the first. “She must have been on a different brand of formula, and the change is upsetting her stomach a little bit.”
“What do we do to help her?” Dylan asked. The worry in his voice made me smile.
“This,” I replied, showing him the motions I was doing. She let out a wet fart and giggled. “And you can hand me some wipes.”
“They won’t be warm,” he warned, handing me a brand new pack. “I haven’t set up the warmer. I haven’t set up anything yet.”
“I actually recommend not using the warmer,” I replied, waiting as he gathered the supplies together to change her into a clean diaper.
“But she’ll be cold!” He stared at me like I was advocating a form of child abuse.
“Yes, but if she doesn’t start with warm wipes, she will never know what she’s missing. You will be happy about that when you’re out of the house and have to use cold ones. They’ll just feel normal for her,” I explained. “I promise, the room temperature wipes are not that bad.”
He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t comment as I began to change her. I could feel him watching my every move, taking notes and learning. Out of habit, I began to narrate what I was doing like I was in a nursing clinical or teaching a student in the ER.
“Always wipe front to back. This will keep the bacteria from her poop getting up to her urethra and causing a urinary tract infection,” I reminded him. “She needs to be changed as soon as she becomes wet, and especially if she has pooped, as both of those things are really hard on skin.”
“I’m guessing that the bigger the diaper isn’t better,” he remarked, watching me try to tighten the straps to keep the diaper on her.
“No. See the leg holes?” I motioned to the diaper. “The bigger sizes are made for bigger legs. You’re going to have a lot of leakage with these ones.”
He sighed. “So what do I do with them? The box is open, so I don’t know if they’ll take it back.”
“Keep them for later. She’ll grow into them,” I advised.
His entire body stilled for a moment, as if realizing for a moment that she was going to be with him for a long time. He swallowed hard. I let him be, instead wrapping the cashmere blanket back around her.
“Wait, do that again,” he commanded, halting me mid-swaddle.
“Sure.” I unwrapped the baby, letting her limbs flail for a moment. “Take the edge, either side, and tuck it in here. Then tuck the tail of the blanket up so that she can’t wiggle her legs too much, and then the other side tucks in just like this.”
“Why do we wrap her up like a little present?” he asked, his eyes still taking in the swaddle as if he were dissecting it so he could know exactly how to do it next time. “I don’t like being tangled up in blankets myself.”
Not unless I’m with the right person , I thought to myself. I didn’t need to say that out loud to a handsome man.
“Babies are in the womb for a long time. They are used to being warm and confined. When they are born, the world is suddenly so big. If you watch, she'll throw her arms out and startle because she doesn't hit anything,” I explained. “The swaddle makes her feel like she's back safe in the womb and it will help her sleep.”
I undid the blanket and moved to the side, motioning him to take my spot.
He swallowed hard, and then with a confident gentleness I didn't expect, managed a half-decent swaddle. His motions were slow and calculated, as if had already practiced this in his mind when he watched me. I gave him an appraising look. This man was more than just a sports guy with no brain. He was quick on the uptake and more observant than I first thought.
“Not bad,” I told him. I didn’t want to tell him that it looked better than a lot of students I worked with. The man already had a big enough ego that I didn't need to add to it.
“At least she's not crying anymore.” He flashed me a quick self-satisfied grin before glancing toward the bathroom. “And the goat hasn’t eaten down the door yet.”
“Have you fed her anything?” I asked, curious about what he was going to do with the goat.
“I gave her some cabbage. I have no idea why the parenting website recommend purchasing it, but the goat liked it a lot. Last I checked on her, she was napping in the bathtub.”
“The parenting website recommended cabbage leaves? And you bought them?” I echoed, unable to keep the giggle out of my words. “Do you know what the cabbage leaves are for?”
He shook his head, picking up his daughter. She was fast asleep in his arms, her breathing coming slow and even. She knew she was safe with him.
“It’s for nursing mothers looking to stop their milk supply,” I explained. “Cabbage leaves on the breast help with engorgement.”
His cheeks flushed. “Oh. Well, I guess it’s good it went to the goat then.”
I shook my head, chuckling softly. I had a feeling this parenting thing was going to be a wild ride for him.
“What else did you get that sounded strange?” I asked. I started picking up the kitchen, just to help out.
“Nipple cream,” he replied.
I tried not to laugh. “That is also for nursing mothers. Unless you were planning on milking yourself?”
“Not this pregnancy, no,” he replied, his cheeks pink. “I’m guessing the lube was also not needed for the baby.”
“Lube? No. Not unless you also got a rectal thermometer,” I informed him. He shook his head. “Then it’s probably because nursing mothers can have dryness issues. Hormones do crazy things to women’s bodies.”
He sighed, looking at the counter of supplies. “I’m now wondering if I found a parenting supply list for nursing mothers. I guess I’ll find a use for it all eventually.”
“Have you eaten?” I asked, realizing that there were no food wrappers mixed up with the baby bottles. “You need to keep up your strength. And stay hydrated.”
I couldn’t help it. It was the nurse in me. I had to make sure that everyone was being taken care of.
“Um... no.” He paused as if thinking about it and going over his memories trying to remember if he did eat something.
“Put her in the box since she’s sleeping, and we’ll get you something to eat and drink.” I moved toward the kitchen wondering what kind of protein shakes this guy probably had in his pantry.
I looked back to see him hesitate at the box. He very obviously did not want to set her down. It was rather sweet. She had only been in his life for a few hours and she already had her fingers wrapped firmly around his heart. With a deep breath, he gently laid her down, making sure to move slowly so that he wouldn’t wake her. She sighed softly as he backed away slowly.
Once she was safe in her box, he strode confidently into the kitchen and straight to the fridge. There he downed a Gatorade in two sips, sagging against the kitchen counter like he’d just finished running a marathon. His shirt rode up on his stomach as he chugged, showing a sliver of defined ab muscles. It didn’t help that the arm position showed off his gorgeous biceps. I turned away so that I wouldn’t be caught staring.
“What does a nurse make in a month?”
I was glad I wasn’t drinking my own Gatorade or I would have sprayed it all over the spotless chrome kitchen.
“Are you thinking of applying for a job?” I asked, trying not to sound offended. “I would imagine it’s not as good as the NFL and you you probably have better benefits.”
His cheeks flushed slightly, accenting the strong line of his jaw. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. I’d actually like to offer you a job.”
“A what?” My mind started to race.
“A job,” he continued. “I don’t know what I’m doing and you’re really good with her. You also haven’t gone to the media to tell them all about this top story.”
“No, I just called the cops on you,” I replied, still feeling guilty.
He smiled at me, making my heart do a little flutter. Good lord, that man was attractive. Maybe it was just the fact that a baby looked so good on him, but he was growing on me.
“I can’t really ask anyone to help me out here,” he continued. “My lawyer wants a DNA test to make sure she’s mine before we do anything public. I can’t ask my coach or anyone on the team. Alex is great, but he’s got a lot on his plate with his grandma right now. I don’t really have any options on people I can trust to keep this quiet and keep her safe.”
I stared at him. This was not where I thought my day was going to go.
“So, I’m asking you. I’ll pay you double whatever your hourly wage at the hospital is to help me watch my daughter. It won’t be for long. Just a few weeks. Once the DNA test comes back and my lawyer has things ironed out, I can hire a nanny.” He stepped close to me, peering into my eyes. They were a warm brown that seemed to swirl with intensity. “But, right now, I need you.”
The “I need you” made my stomach do bubbly things and I suddenly felt hot and flushed.
“It wouldn’t be all the time either. She’s my daughter, and I plan on being a good parent, but I do need to work. I have to go to practice. I have to go to games. I have responsibilities to my team. It’s mostly during the days, but there are a few games that will go into the night.” His words came fast, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get them out once he started.
I was tempted. SO tempted. That much money? And only for a couple of weeks?
But I loved my job and I couldn’t cut my hours. I had to get my full hours in order to be eligible for the hospital scholarship. I needed that scholarship to pay for my grad school, and even as generous as Dylan’s offer was, it wouldn’t be enough to cover my tuition. I couldn’t cut my hours, but I could see he was desperate. I understood his desperation. He couldn’t ask anyone for help without risking his position on the team. I’d seen another news article on how tenuous his position on the team was. I didn’t know that they were cutting team members as part of the summer training program.
I was going to regret this. I could feel it in my bones, but that didn’t stop the words from coming out.
“I can’t help you on nights I work,” I told him. “But, luckily for you, I already requested all the game nights off.”
“But you’ll do it?” He looked like a hopeful puppy. There was no way I was backing out of this now.
“Yes. I’ll do it.”
His entire body relaxed, his shoulders lowering from his ears and his expression softening.
“Thank you,” he said. “I didn’t know she even existed until a few hours ago, but I want to make sure she has everything this world can offer her. Is that sappy or what?”
He laughed, running a hand through his hair. His shirt rode up with the motion, once again showing his ab muscles and flexing his biceps. He didn’t even realize he was doing it, but the motion was incredibly masculine and sexy.
Oh boy. He was growing on me. He obviously adored his new daughter. He was hot.
And he was also a single dad and my new employer. I needed to get any temptation thoughts out of my brain now.
“So, you’re a fan?” he asked, smiling hopefully at me.
“A what?” It took me a moment before I realized what he was referencing his football team. “No. Not a fan.”
His expression fell a little bit. “Oh. But then why do you have all the games off?”
“Because I hate working on game nights. It’s all anyone talks about the entire time, and we get so many stupid alcohol-induced injuries,” I explained.
His eyes lost the hint of smile they’d had and I realized that I’d just kind of insulted him and his job. It was a good thing I hadn’t said more or gone off on one of my usual diatribes about the dangers of concussions and the lack of safety around football as well as the increased alcohol injuries of those watching. He was probably not the best person to share those opinions with on the first day of meeting him.
“I mean, nothing against you. I just am not a football person.” The words felt lame coming out.
“It’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not for everybody. But, if it means you can watch my daughter, I’m very much okay with you not liking the games.”
I smiled, turning away so that he wouldn’t see that it was a fake smile.
“Since I’m here, can I help you set up some of this stuff?” I asked, pointing to the mountain of boxes on his floor. “In addition to being amazing with children, I am actually pretty good at following poorly written instructions.”
“Really?” He smirked at my boast. “And how does one get good at following poorly written instructions?”
I shrugged one shoulder as I picked up a box. “Haven’t you ever read a doctor’s handwriting?”