Page 13 of The Obsession
“I have some experience with little ones,” she says hesitantly, closing the distance between us. “I raised my daughter on my own and looked after my grandchildren while she and her husband worked … well, I did, until they moved to the other side of the country.”
A trace of sadness slips into her voice at the end, but I push it aside. I have bigger problems to deal with right now.
“I appreciate the offer, but as I said, I’m taking her to see a doctor.”
“She sounds … unsettled.”
You think? It wouldn’t take Einstein to figure that one out. “I’ve fed her, burped her, changed her, and she still won’t stop crying.”
The nosy neighbour raises her hand, skimming it lightly over Peach’s forehead. “She’s not hot … she doesn’t seem to have a temperature.” Her eyes flicker from the baby up to me. “Would you mind if I held her?”
My eyebrows pinch together. “Why?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she gently takes her from my arms and holds Peach upright against her chest. “There, there,” she whispers, soothing her hand down my niece’s back, and within seconds, the crying stops.
This lady is either a baby whisperer or I’m completely fucking useless.
“What’s been going on with her?” she asks. “Apart from the crying.”
“She’s vomited a few times after I’ve fed her. Yesterday it was projectile, like she was purging a tiny demon from her body.”
My neighbour’s eyes soften as she studies Peach, gently rocking her. “Hmm … and the crying, does it happen right after feeds, too?”
I rub the back of my neck as my tired brain struggles to remember exactly when it started. Every nerve feels raw, and I’m running on empty, barely holding it together. “Yeah, after eating, and she arches her back like she’s trying to fight it.”
She nods slowly. “That sounds like reflux. Some babies’ stomachs are sensitive, so they get uncomfortable after feeds. It’s common, nothing serious, but it explains why she won’t settle no matter what you do.”
I stare at her, a mix of relief and disbelief. “So it’s not me? Not something I’ve done wrong?”
“Looking after babies can be scary, but you need to cutyourself some slack. You’re noticing the signs, keeping her fed and safe. That counts for a lot, young man.”
“My name is Dominic,” I tell her.
“Dominic,” she repeats with a slight smile.
I scrub both hands down my face. “Is there something the doctors can do to fix her?”
She rocks Peach gently. “Here’s what you can do to help her. First, keep her upright for at least thirty minutes after each feed. That way, gravity is on your side.”
I grunt, shifting uncomfortably. “Half an hour?”
“Babies with reflux need it. It keeps the milk down and helps with the discomfort. Also, try smaller, more frequent feeds; don’t try to force a full bottle in one go. And burp her often, every few minutes, not just at the end.”
I blink at her. “Every few minutes?”
She nods. “Yes. And if she’s still uncomfortable, gripe water can help calm her stomach.”
I stare at her, incredulous. “Gripe water?”
She glances down at Peach and notices she’s fallen asleep, so she steps closer and keeps her voice quiet. “Gripe water’s just a herbal mix that can help settle her tummy when she’s uncomfortable. It won’t fix the reflux, but it can make her less miserable. You can put it straight in her bottle. You’re already doing a lot right; just some small changes can make a huge difference.”
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
She arches an accusing eyebrow. “I’m speaking from experience, Dominic. My grandson had the same problem when he was a baby.”
“Thank you for your insight, but I can’t just leave her like this; it’s cruel. I think I’ll take her to the hospital just in case.”
She shakes her head gently. “You look like you haven’t slept in days. Hospitals will make you wait for hours, and they won’t prioritise something like reflux. It would besmarter to see your local doctor on Monday or speak with your community nurse. I’d be happy to watch her for a few hours while you get some rest.”
