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From Bundle of Trouble
Chapter Three Continued…
Jim shrugged, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “All my life
everyone has tried to help George. Growing up, my mom told me to
take care of him. Your best friend for life, she always said. I did my
best, but nothing was ever good enough for him. He always demanded
more, giving nothing in return and managing to poison everything
and everyone around him.” His face contorted in anger, then turned
to sadness. “I didn’t want the joy of Laurie’s birth clouded over by
news about George.” After a moment, he said, “I took down the guy’s
phone number. I’ll call him when we’re home, make sure I’m really
reaching the medical examiner’s office.”
We sat in silence for a moment. I put my arms around him and
pressed my cheek against his. I understood his desire to postpone bad
As the sun came up, the room began to glow. I glanced at the clock
and realized Laurie was due back at any minute.
“Sorry I woke you,” I said.
He stroked my hair. “Try not to worry about George. I’m doing
it enough for the both of us. You focus on Laurie and on
THE DAY NURSE WHEELED IN OUR LITTLE BUNDLE, WRAPPED IN A PINK
and blue striped swaddling blanket with a pink cap on her head. She
looked like a tiny cherub with rosy cheeks. I noticed a scratch on her
face. Laurie’s itty-bitty nails were extremely long. The nurse
explained that hospital staff refused to trim them “because of the
How ridiculous was that? A qualified nursing professional
wouldn’t trim those microscopic things. I’m supposed to?
How could I trust myself not to cut off a finger? Where was
Giselle? And who was this day nurse who didn’t even have the
decency to help us trim the little talons?
Laurie swung her hands frightfully close to her bright blue eyes.
Jim and I decided filing them seemed a much safer option.
As I manicured Laurie, Jim called our family and friends
announcing the birth of our daughter. When Jim dialed his Uncle
Roger, I found myself holding my breath.
“Uncle Roger? It’s Jim . . . we had the baby . . . yeah . . . beautiful
baby girl . . . six pounds, five ounces . . . Laurie. Katie’s doing great.”
Jim listened as Roger spoke. I continued to eavesdrop, but couldn’t
make out much from Roger’s end.
I mouthed to Jim, “Ask him about George.”
Jim waved me away, then turned his back to me.
I checked Laurie’s diaper. Her diapers were so tiny, Jim and I
laughed every time we had to change one. She was dry.
I wondered if the nurse had changed her. In the baby preparation
class, they told us we would now become “waste watchers.” Laurie
needed to have as many wet diapers per day as she was days old. Two
days old, two wet diapers. At least until the mother’s milk came in.
Right now she was surviving solely on colostrum, the premilk.
How would it feel to have milk come in? Were you supposed to
feel anything? So far, I’d noticed nothing. What if it didn’t come in?
What then? How would I know anyhow? And even if it did come in,
would it be enough?
Earlier this morning the day nurse had stood over our bed and
observed me breastfeeding. She frowned as she wrote down on my
chart: “Breastfeeding: mother—poor, baby—poor.”
How could she write that?
I’m an overachiever by nature, but the nurse’s remark about me
didn’t bother me as much as the remark about Laurie. How could she
say Laurie was “poor” at anything? I felt an immediate instinct to
defend my little one. Forget that nurse. We would show her. We were
going to become breastfeeding wonders.
When did Giselle’s shift start?
Jim hung up the phone, the sound interrupting my thoughts.
“Uncle Roger hasn’t heard from the medical examiner’s office.”
“Oh? I didn’t hear you ask him.”
“I didn’t. But he didn’t say anything about it, so I know they didn’t
“Why didn’t you just ask him?”
“Why bother him? Hasn’t Roger been through enough?”
I felt my stomach tighten. “Aren’t you worried?”
Laurie answered with a wail as though she sensed her father’s
Avoiding my question, Jim teased, “Go ahead and try that breast‐
feeding thing again. I hear you two are poor at it.”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”I couldn’t stop reading!”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”Fast-paced and fun. I love these mysteires!”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”Diana Orgain is my new favorite author!”
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