Page 97 of SnowBound

24

ABIGAIL

The bottle dropped from my grip before I could secure its lid. Milk—and an hour of pumping—gone to waste. Alexi’s cries intensified. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” I bet he didn’t believe me anymore because I’d been repeating the same words for the last five minutes.

Tears drenched my cheeks. I was trying, doing my best. But sometimes, I felt like I couldn’t do it all. I sucked a deep breath in and firmed my back. No time to throw myself a pity party. No matter how inexperienced or how young I was, so far, I had managed the whole baby thing. It wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t perfect, but I did my best. And each day, I showed up and did the work. And unless I collapsed from exhaustion, I would continue to do so until Alexi and I figured it out. Found our rhythm. And what worked for us.

Tossing a dishcloth over the mess on the floor, I hurried to the infant swing, a gift from Ellie’s parents, and picked up my fussy baby. Who would have thought babies were so loud? Not me. They were all tiny and cute but could pierce your eardrums when they got upset.

I pressed his flushed body against me, stepping back and forth in some sort of dance that usually did the trick to soothe him while I murmured “Shhh” in his ear, kissing the crown of his head. “I’m here. It’s okay. And I’m aware you are hungry, but I kinda ruined your dinner. I’ll need a few more minutes to fix you another bottle.”

After weeks of trying to breastfeed him with the help of a lactation specialist, post his birth, I gave up and decided to pump and feed him with a bottle instead. In a way, I preferred that. It might sound weird, or maybe it was my age talking, but I preferred the idea of my baby suckling on a bottle nipple to my own. Perhaps if I had some kind of Mommy and Me group or female figures in my life, I’d feel different. I did not have enough time to attend the first one, and the second was nonexistent. When I asked the nurse at the hospital, she assured me there were no right or wrong ways of feeding a baby and that as long as Alexi got the required nutrients, I could use a bottle without shame.

His soft baby hair tickled my nostrils as I peppered more kisses on the top of his head and took a big whiff of his baby scent. Serenity spread through me, and he appeared to sense it because he relaxed against my chest.

Once he stopped screaming, I laid my son in the crook of my arm and offered him his pacifier. While he sucked on it with determination, I carefully stepped over the spilled milk mess and warmed up another pouch of baby nectar. It took twice the amount of time since I had only one free hand, but in the end, I managed.

Together we sat on the couch. Soft Christmas music played on a speaker set on the fireplace mantel. With all the commotion of the last ten minutes, I totally forgot it was on. Alexi’s fingers curled around one of mine, and he held on to me tight as if he feared I would leave him. Or vanish. His big eyes, now a midnight shade of blue and framed with thick dark lashes that all women would be jealous of, were fixed on mine. “It’s good?” I asked.

A sound resembling a grunt passed his lips, and I decided it was a Yes.

I positioned a pillow under my arm and sank back. His eyelids seemed to weigh heavy, and soon his eyes closed, his mouth still sucking every drop of milk from the bottle and his fingers never releasing mine.

I surveyed the room around me. Early November and as soon as Halloween was over, I dressed a small Christmas tree with white lights and silver and blue ornaments. I pinned socks with our initials on the mantel. It wasn’t much, but it gave the place a festive look. The Holidays would consist of the two of us this year. No one-nighter with a stranger, no family dinner, no winter break. I had work scheduled every day and had even taken a few extra hours after I opened my calendar for people whose assistants were taking some time off. It filled up in no time. The extra cash would be appreciated once I took on a fuller course load next semester.

The college had agreed to let me finish my degree remotely and at my own pace. Sure, it wasn’t the best option for a social life, but for me, who had one goal in mind and a newborn to care for, it was the perfect opportunity to multitask. I had sent my two final papers three days ago and was now done with school for almost a month.

From where I sat, I spotted the overflowing hamper by Alexi’s bedroom door. Things got intense quickly around here, and I was often overwhelmed with all the chores on top of everything else. Tomorrow morning, I would do some laundry. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I was done. I had to recharge my batteries because they were running on empty right now.

Alexi had been waking up every three hours for the last week. So far, he had been getting better at sleeping for longer stretches of time, but these past few days, he was hungrier and crankier than usual. Growth spurt, the nurse at the pediatrician’s office concluded when I called in because I was worried something might be wrong.

My head fell forward as exhaustion won the battle. I removed the bottle from between his lips and watched his mouth continue to suckle even though there was nothing to suck on. I swooned at the sight. My little guy was, for now, the one true love of my life.

Once changed and dressed in a very adorable one-piece bunny pajama, I laid him in the pack and play I kept in my bedroom. His soft snoring sent a curl to my lips. I hadn’t succeeded at letting him spend an entire night in his crib yet. During the day, I could do it, let him sleep in his own bedroom, but at night, I feared I’d be too sound asleep to hear him if he woke up.

With a palm over his chest, I made sure he breathed and his heart kept beating.

Once satisfied, and not even taking the time to undress or shower, I wrapped myself in a blanket and hit the mattress. Sleep claimed me before I had time to catch up with it.

* * *

In an attempt to add some holiday spirit to our days, Alexi and I spent a week dressed in PJs. I drank too much hot chocolate with too much whipped cream, ate Mixchos—the only way I ate nachos nowadays—and sang too many Christmas carols. Even though he was only three months old and wouldn’t remember any of this, it was important to me to create some tradition.

Sitting on the floor of the living room with my baby on his back over a fluffy blanket, I tickled his little feet and his belly after I finished changing his diaper. Today, he wore a red Santa hat and a pajama with elf feet, reminding me of the outfit his daddy wore the night we met. I took too many pictures with my phone. His big, curious eyes followed the reindeer hand puppet. Today was one of those perfect days. Alexi had slept five hours straight last night and had woken up with a smile, watching me as if I was his entire world—in a sense, I guess I was—and kept babbling the entire time I set him down.

The buzzer, announcing someone was at the door, broke our improvised photoshoot. Lifting my son in my arms, I pressed the intercom button. “Can I help you?”

“Delivery for Mr. and Ms. Peña.”

Hearing the man calling Alexi Mr. Peña brought a smile to my lips. Only Ellie would do such a thing. “Come on in,” I said, buzzing the delivery guy in. Alexi’s wet mouth connected with my cheek in what could only be described as soaked kisses. We stepped over the threshold and waited for the man to join us. When I turned Alexi around so he could see the stranger coming, he started waving his arms and kicking his legs.

“Ba-ba-baba-ba.”

“Hey you,” the man told Alexi before bringing his gaze to me. “Here, for you.” He placed the box on the floor at my feet and made a device appear from his pocket. “Please sign here.”

Using my finger, I did as asked.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.