Avenging Us - Gina Whitney Page 0,41
staying with us and being monitored for a few more days. I’m just stressing the importance of keeping this area clean and dry. When she’s ready to go home, all this will be gone over again, and you’ll leave with instructions. A cesarean takes a good six weeks or longer to heal. The incision heals from the inside out. That takes time. So, you’ll need some help caring for your little one.”
“She’ll have me, and I’ll hire a nurse if needed.” His voice held a protective edge.
The doctor nodded, pleased by Abel’s response. “Good, the more support the better. First time mothers have a habit of over-doing it, and end up back in my office because they ripped a few staples or a fluid pocket developed,” he countered while blotting some residual blood with a clean piece of gauze.
I tried to lean up on my forearms to see. The word staple made me cringe, and I didn’t want to sound vein. But what the fuck did I look like down there? My stomach was still swollen, and from this vantage point, I saw nothing but my aching breasts. However, thoughts of a long, jagged Frankenstein incision came to mind.
“What about these?” I pointed to my swollen painful breasts. “They’re killing me, and hard as a rock.”
He removed the last tie holding my dignity together, and my swollen breast fell out. “Did you bring a nursing bra?”
I looked at Abel, who was equally confused.
The doctor’s head tilted in question. “Are you planning to nurse, Gia?” he asked, and I shrugged. I hadn’t thought about it. “Your milk is coming in; that’s why they’re engorged.”
“Does it matter if the baby’s bottle fed already?” Abel asked with clear concern that I may have missed my window to nurse her. I was still focused on my milk coming in and engorged breasts. Abel chuckled and returned his attention back to the doctor.
“Not at all. The baby has to eat either way, right? If there’s an emergency with the mother…the child still needs sustenance.” Well, that made sense. However, I was sad that I missed watching Abel feeding our daughter. But thankful it was him instead of a stranger.
I took a moment to give it some real thought. I wanted both, but I didn’t know if it were possible. “I’d like to try, but I want her daddy or family to be able to feed her, too.”
Abel looked pleased with my response.
“Absolutely. Nurse Williams will get you a nursing bra to use. And your baby nurse will explain how it all works.” The nurse left the room speedily, and the doctor continued his examination. I quickly covered myself in front of a room full of strangers.
“When can I see my baby?” I asked, releasing the breath I was holding.
The doctor’s eyes were sympathetic. “The baby can visit with you in the morning. In fact, Abel or the baby nurse can bring her to you. She’s still in the NICU until tomorrow. Purely as a precaution. And you, my dear, need to stay in bed until you’re cleared. If you do well tonight…I don’t see why we can’t get you up and sitting in the chair tomorrow. Let’s see what tomorrow brings,” he said, patting my hand in comfort. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
The room cleared out, and all that remained was Abel and me. He handed me his phone, and on the screen-saver was the first time I saw my daughter. “You took her picture…”
“Of course I did. It didn’t feel right seeing her without you. So this was the next best thing,” he said, kissing my forehead as I studied the picture. With my forefinger and thumb, I widened the image. “She needs a name, though.”
I nodded. Yes, she needed a name. However, the names we spoke about didn’t really seem fitting anymore. “She’s a perfect angel.” I gasped, swallowing the knot of emotion in my throat. I chewed on the name that so readily rolled of our tongues. “Does Angel sound like a stripper name?” I asked, as I seriously considered it as a possible name.
His brows pulled together as he considered it. “I love it as a nickname or term of endearment, but as her actual name, I think it does sound stripper-ish.”
I nodded in agreement. I didn’t want my daughter named after a stripper.
“What about something Italian? She was conceived in Italy, and you are Italian.” He grabbed the pitcher of water and offered me a cup to drink.
“I’d love that,”