Page 1 of Nursing the Alpha
1
FLYNN
Saint Agatha’s Maternity Wing, East Building – 4th Floor
I loweredthe baby gently into the cot, careful not to tangle the IV line taped to her foot or knock off the little knitted cap sliding sideways on her head. Daisy. Just under four pounds. Born six weeks early and already tougher than me.
As I laid her down, she squirmed a little, then stilled, blinking up with eyes still too cloudy to focus. I smoothed a hand over her chest, featherlight, the way Nurse Melly had shown me. Pressure calmed them, she’d said. Not too much. Just enough to remind them they’re here.
She was. Shewashere. Breathing. Small and pink and fighting.
My chest ached, but not the full, hot pressure I’d woken with. Just a residual soreness, like throbbing muscles after a long walk. I pressed the heel of my hand under my left nipple. Still tender. But finally—finally—not leaking.
That was the last of it.
My last letdown. And it took chest-feeding four babies to make it stop. Four babies that weren’t mine but whom I had nourished all the same.
I stood there for a long moment, one hand resting against the side of the cot, watching Daisy’s fingers twitch. So small. I still felt the warmth of her mouth, the gentle pull of her latch. She’d fed well. Drank everything I had. I should’ve been sore, but instead, I felt…
Empty.
In a good way.
I took a breath.
Then another.
I smiled.
“Thanks for helping me say good-bye, sweetheart,” I whispered. “You did a good job.”
I stepped back. Checked the seal on the breast milk bag I’d already labeled, and tucked it into the cooler with the others. As I turned away, I felt a slight chill, the kind that comes when a chapter of your life closes. The room seemed brighter, quieter.
As if responding to my swaying emotions, Daisy made a small noise. A quiet whimper, followed by suckling sounds. She was dreaming, perhaps of another helping from her impromptu dinner.
The smile came back to my lips, wistful this time but sincere. A pang in my heart reminded me of the connection we had formed in such little time and how it could still stir feelings in me. But this too would pass, like all things have been doing lately.
Outside the room, I pulled off the disposable scrub they’d given me, noticing the difference already. Earlier, when I’d put it on, my chest had been sensitive and swollen,pressing up against the material. After the feeding, it was loose, soft, warm. I could almost pretend I was normal again.
The halls of the maternity wing were quieter than usual. Late afternoon lull. I passed by the nurse’s station and gave a little wave.
“Flynn!” Melly looked up from the chart she was updating. Her dark hair was braided over one shoulder today. “You heading out?”
“Yeah.” I tugged down the hem of my hoodie. “Last shift, remember?”
She pouted. “We’ll miss you around here. You’re a favorite.”
I laughed. “You say that to all the wet nurses.”
“Maybe.” She rounded the desk and pulled me into a warm hug. “But we mean it with you. I wish we could keep you forever, but it’s nearly been a year. You must be desperate to get back to your life.”
I hugged her back, one-armed. Careful not to press too close. She smelled like lavender hand lotion and too many hours in this place. Comforting. Familiar.
“Let’s get this milk to stop producing first.” I grimaced, pulling away from her.
“Just follow my instructions. It might be painful for a while, especially since you get full so quickly, but the more you express, the harder it is for your body to understand it needs to stop. If the pain gets too much, you can take some over-the-counter pain medication. And no more chest-feeding, yeah?”
She looked at me with cautious eyes, concern etching her eyebrows together. I nodded, assuring her I understood the rules, but some part of me already missed the warmth and intimacy that came with nursing. But like she said, I hada life to get back to. It had been almost two years since I’d gone on a date.
