I am solely responsible for him.
In all the world, I am the only one he has.
I am the only one he can count on.
“It’s okay,” the blonde nurse reassures me. “Breast-feeding can be a little tricky the first time around, but you’ll get the hang of it.”
I smile, finding comfort in her soothing words. “What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Nurse Sedley,” she replies. “But you can call me Maria. And this is Annette.”
For the first time, I focus on the nurse that brought my son in to meet me for the first time. She’s dark-haired, like me, but her eyes are dark and husky, her lips full and blushing with color.
“I don’t remember anything about the labor,” I say.
“It was a C-section,” Annette tells me. “You were in no fit state to undergo a natural labor. But Dr. Farrow did a fantastic job. He stitched you up well. You will have pain for a few days, but you’ll heal.”
I nod hesitantly as I try to process all of that. “You were there?”
“I was,” she says. “I was the one who washed your little boy up and swaddled him. He has an amazing set of lungs on him.”
I smile, realizing I haven’t heard him cry yet. He’s been quiet in my arms for the longest time. I sit up a little straighter and shimmy down my hospital robe on one side.
Maria moves forward and holds my boy for a moment so I can get my right breast out. I’m aware suddenly how different my breasts feel at the moment. Heavier than I would have expected and larger than I’m used to.
“Your milk has come in nicely,” Maria comments.
I hold my son up to my breast and gently guide his mouth towards my nipple. He seems uncertain at first but Maria helps me wheedle his mouth open.
When he finally clamps down on me, I give a little yelp and cringe as the pain shoots through my nipple.
“It’s okay,” Maria coaxes. “Easy does it.”
It takes several minutes for me to get accustomed to the strange sensation. “This is… weird,” I admit.
Maria smiles. “It takes some getting used to,” she agrees. “I’ve had four babies and breast-feeding was a new experience each time.”
“Really?”
“Mhmm. People don’t talk enough about how hard it is,” she tells me. “Everyone assumes it’s this natural art that just comes to you.”
I wince a little as the baby bites down on my nipple a little. “Wow, and he only has soft little gums.”
Annette rests a reassuring hand on my leg. “Trust me, darling: it’ll get easier.”
I brush the back of my knuckle against his velvety soft cheek. “He’s so beautiful.”
“He really is,” Annette agrees. “And those features! So different.”
“His father is Russian,” I say without thinking.
“Oh?” Maria blurts.
I look down at the baby to cover over my awkwardness. I probably shouldn’t have shared that with them, but it had just slipped out.
I sigh inwardly. Maybe I don’t have to be so nervous. After all, if Artem wanted to find me, he would have done so by now.
Why hasn’t he even tried?