Page 93 of The Curveball
Then there’s the good stuff. The addiction to the scent of your baby when she’s cuddled on your chest, the obsession with the sweet little noises she makes, and my personal favourite, the sight of your partner asleep on the couch, shirtless, with your baby held protectively in his arms.
I’ve been lucky to witness a lot of beautiful moments in life, but nothing beats watching Brady be a father. The tenderness he shows Ivy echoes the tenderness he shows me. And I know I couldn’t ask for a better man for me or my daughter.
“Are you planning on staring at me like a perv all day,or can you come and get out a fresh pack of wipes? This one is empty.”
I startle, pushing off the doorway to Ivy’s nursery where, yes, I was ogling him as he changed our daughter’s clothes following an epic poop-splosion.
“How did you know I was watching?” I ask, moving to the closet to grab a new pack of wipes. I open it and hand them to him before stooping down to kiss Ivy’s head. “And how the heck do you keep her so calm during diaper changes? She screams like a banshee with me.”
“She’s a daddy’s girl. We have a deal,” he replies before shifting into a soft, babyish voice. “Isn’t that right, Ivy? You’re my mini-hurricane, aren’t you?”
“What kind of deal?” I laugh as he scoops her up and cradles her, turning to face me.
“The kind where I agree to let her stay awake until midnight if she doesn’t fight me on diaper changes.”
It’s impossible not to grin. “Really. So, you’re telling me she screams during diaper changes with her mother in exchange for sleeping solidly for five hours?”
“Are you or are you not getting some sleep each night?”
I nod and he smirks.
“Well, there you go. It’s a trade-off, little mama. Sleep or screams.”
“I’ll take the sleep.” I hold my hands out, but he turns away, adopting a protective stance. “Hey, come on, she’s going to need to nurse soon.”
“Nope. We’re gonna read first. I’ll bring her to you when she’s hungry. This is my time.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I put my hands down as hemoves to the rocking chair in the corner, next to the small table where he has a stack of books. Some are baby books, and some are his that he reads at night when Ivy just wants to be held.
“And yet, you still love me.” He sits down, carefully shifting Ivy’s position so he’s holding her with one arm as he picks up his glasses with the other and puts them on. “If you don’t interrupt, you can join us.”
“Nah, I’ll leave you two alone. I should shower now, since Ivy and I have to go to our last midwife appointment later, anyway.”
“Oh right. Sorry I can’t come with you.” Brady grimaces. “But it’s the last team workout before we officially break for the season.”
“It’s fine.” I step closer and kiss Ivy’s head before kissing Brady’s upturned lips. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
As I leave the nursery, I hear him say softly, “Okay, Ives. Are we gonna start with farm animals or baseball? Of course. Baseball. Good choice.”
Later that evening, after getting the all clear from Enid at our midwife appointment, I look down at my beautiful baby girl, who’s nursing like a champ.
“So, is that a plan? Are you going to cooperate like the good baby you are?” I murmur. “Because Mama really needs this. And it’ll make your daddy so happy.”
As if she can actually understand me, Ivy’s eyes start to slowlyflutter closed.
“Good girl,” I whisper.
It took some careful planning, and a whole lot of hoping that today wouldn’t be an off-the-rails-because-she’s-a-baby kind of day, but everything is lining up perfectly. Brady should be home any minute, I freshened up before I sat down to nurse, and once I get Ivy into her crib…
I feel her little body relax into a deeper level of sleep and silently cheer. Ever so slowly, I stand up and move to her crib, where the white noise machine and monitor are already turned on. Gently, I lower her down, holding my breath.
It’s more delicate work than disarming a bomb, but I manage to successfully transfer her, and then I tiptoe out of her room, pulling the door closed. Then it’s a race against time, one I just barely win, stepping out into the living room right as I hear Brady’s key in the door.
He steps through the door and comes to an abrupt stop. His bag drops to the floor by his feet.
“What…what's going on?” he asks, his voice gruff and deep.
