The morning after Mikayla's birth, Stacy looked at her sleeping baby in the bassinet next to her hospital bed. She watched the tiny chest raise and fall slightly with every breath her child took. She might be big for a newborn at 9 pounds, 10 ounces and 21.5 inches, and as Stacey had pushed through agonizing pain the night before she'd felt like she was forcing a baby elephant out of herself. But now, looking at the tiny fists and the little footprint the nurse had taken for the commemorative card on Stacey's nightstand, Mikayla looked just as small and fragile as any other newborn to her, despite her puffy cheeks and somewhat pudgy arms and legs.
Stacy was amazed that she'd grow into a toddler, a child and even an adult someday - if no more weird changes would happen. In the past 22 weeks, no more changes had occurred - apart from maybe the one from Mike to Mikayla, but Stacy and Jim didn't know when that had happened. She didn't remember her doctor mentioning the baby's sex or using gendered pronouns at the ultrasounds. When she'd become pregnant, Jim and her had agreed they both hoped for Mike's age to progress normally from now on. The pregnancy had given them time to plan, make work arrangements and set up a cozy nursery in Mike's former bedroom. They had a support network - Jim's parents lived in town, and several friends had also offered to watch the baby, although Stacy was the first in their circle to become pregnant. Despite some anxiety about the huge responsibility and lack of sleep Jim and her were facing, they felt ready for their parenthood journey and looked forward to see Mikayla grow up. They certainly didn't want to suddenly adjust to the baby disappearing into the womb again or maybe suddenly becoming older.
Jim came back with breakfast from the hospital cafeteria. "Hey, babe, how do you feel?" he asked.
"Sore and tired." Stacy said. "And happy." she added with a smile, and Jim leaned in for a kiss.
As they shared their first breakfast as parents, Mikayla begun to stir in her crib. "Are you waking up? Do you want breakfast too?" Jim cooed.
Waking up outside the womb for the first time in months, Mikayla took a moment to remember why she wasn't floating in amniotic fluid and where she was. She stretched her limbs that extended into the open air around her, awkward and hard to control but no longer constrained by the womb's walls. She heard Daddy's question and opened her eyes. They seemed to be alone in the room - this was a good time to try talking. But instead of "Yeah, I'm hungry" something more like "Aa." came from her mouth, a baby sound that might have meant anything or nothing at all. Apparently, talking didn't work. Mikayla wasn't really surprised, remembering how she'd pretty much lost her words as she'd regressed towards the womb. Huge hands lifted her from the crib as Daddy took extra care to hold her head securely and cradled her against his chest.
"Good morning!" he cooed in a cheerful and surprisingly high-pitched voice. "I bet you're hungry. Let's check out if Mommy has some breakfast for you."
Mikayla appreciated the idea and tried to nod her head, but quickly discovered that her undeveloped neck muscles definitely couldn't move her heavy head far and fast enough to meaningfully communicate. But did it really matter? She wouldn't really need to talk or communicate much as a baby, although it might be helpful at times.
"Give Mommy a second." Stacy mumbled. She put down her half-eaten croissant and undid the hospital gown's buttons to uncover her chest. "Okay, put her here." She gestured at the bare skin between her breasts.
"Hellooo, Mikayla! Good morning!" Stacy cooed as Jim carefully placed their daughter on her chest. "Are you hungry? Can you get there on your own?" she asked, not sure if the baby still had enough of Mike's mind to understand.
Mikayla found herself face down on Mommy's warm skin. Sweat and milk combined into a pleasant scent that had imprinted itself in Mikayla's mind some hours ago when she'd been here right after birth, during the first skin-to-skin contact with Mommy. She turned her head and heard the familiar heartbeat that had always been there in the womb. This was really comfortable and soothing, but Mikayla needed something more - milk.
"Do you want milk, baby? Can you get there on your own? I'll let you try for a moment." Stacy cooed, looking down at the baby rooting around between her breasts. She seemed alert and content, and Stacy felt this would be a good opportunity to try out the baby-led attachment she'd heard about in her Childbirth and Breastfeeding Class.
Mikayla saw a dark, prominent nipple ahead, maybe an arm's length away. She stretched her arm, and her fingers indeed brushed against her source of nutrition. Still, with her floppy, weak, clumsy baby body, it seemed far away. She let out a little whine, but accepted the challenge. She lifted her head as best as she could, just far enough to turn it, opened her mouth wide in anticipation and let her instincts take over for the ages old breast crawl.
"Wow, looks like she's gonna make it!" Jim said as he watched his baby clumsily turning her head and slowly but steadily working her body up the incline of Stacy's left breast.
"You can do it!" Stacy said softly, encouraging Mikayla. "Almost there!"
Mikayla felt the nipple brush against her nose, but couldn't quite get her lips around it.
"Aw!" and "So close", she heard her parents' voices.
Mikayla made another effort to lift and turn her head, and this time Mommy's nipple and Mikayla's mouth just aligned perfectly, she latched on and her jaws and tongue automatically started to work to get the milk her body craved.
"Wow, you made it!" Stacy cooed. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as her breasts let down and milk began to flow.
"Do you think she understands us?" Jim asked.