LIFE IS A STRANGE PLACE by Frank Turner Hollon

Author:Frank Turner Hollon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LIFE IS A STRANGE PLACE
ISBN: Life_is_a_Strange_Place
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 2003-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CORNELIA AND THE FINE DETAILS OF BREAST-FEEDING

Around two o’clock in the afternoon they moved us to a regular room down the hall. The baby was rolled in on a table wrapped tight with a pink little hat. I sat in the chair next to Ginger’s bed and listened to the husky nurse.

“My name is Norma. We haven’t met yet. I’ll be here with you, in and out, until the end of the shift this evening. The baby is just fine. She’s all clean and hungry.”

I stood up and walked across the room to retrieve the jars of baby food. On the way I announced, “I thought about that last night and stopped at the store. I’ve got ‘meatloaf and mashed potatoes’ and ‘yellow pudding.’ Which one do you think would be best?”

Nurse Norma watched me with heavy eyes. She turned to Ginger and then back to me.

“Sir, newborn babies require breast milk.”

“O.K.,” I said. “She can have it later. Can she have any cake?”

I began to realize Nurse Norma was on the fast track to the conclusion that I was a complete idiot. No one bothered to tell me that babies can’t eat baby food, or birthday cake, or pork chops for that matter.

Ginger broke the brief silence. “What’s the cake for?”

“It’s her birthday. Her only birthday she’ll really ever have. It’s the day she was born, and I thought a birthday cake would be appropriate.”

Nurse Norma walked over to where I stood and looked down at the cake through the cellophane.

“Who’s ‘Babby’?”

“Babby?” Ginger repeated.

I acted like I hadn’t noticed before and played angry that the person at the grocery store would make such a mistake.

“That’s ridiculous. I oughtta take the damn thing back.”

Nurse Norma shuffled away from me and asked, “Do we have a name for the baby yet?”

“Cornelia,” Ginger answered with a proud smile.

Nurse Norma lifted the baby and placed her in her mother’s arms.

“Will the father be joining us?” Norma asked innocently.

It seemed like an odd question. Who the hell did she think I was? My eyes caught with Ginger’s eyes and there was no hesitation, “Barry’s the father. He was with me through the birth. He did better than I did.”

Nurse Norma was embarrassed. She was one of those large women who turn pink in the face and neck as a side effect of the tingle of public embarrassment. Splotches began to form and slowly grew to birthmark-size stains.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and resorted to her speciality, the fine details of breast-feeding.

I must admit, I was looking forward to the breast-feeding thing. I once saw a woman at the Laundromat breast-feeding her baby in full view sitting in a chair by the Coke machine. I pretended not to notice and walked past the woman several times, stealing peeks at the creamy white breast top and hazel nipple.

Nurse Norma pointed out a videotape we could watch later for breast-feeding demonstrations and instructions. She proceeded to explain positions to hold the baby, nipple tenderness, and frequency of feeding.

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