Page 8 of Blizzard Babies
“That’s fair,” I reply. “I think I’m going to try for six weeks. That will give her a good foundation with antibodies and all that stuff, but it’s not such a long time that it’ll make me feel like I can’t do anything but pump.”
“I honestly don’t know,” Whitney admits. “I feel a lot of pressure to say I’ll breastfeed, but at the end of the day, I think the most important thing is for both the baby and me to be healthy. Part of that, for me anyway, is to be mentally healthy. If we get to the birth and the idea of breastfeeding is stressful, I’m going to bail. But if it feels natural and works out, then I’ll go for it.”
“It’s a very personal decision,” I say quietly. “No one should feel pressured. No way. Do what works for you. And I’m the first to say if my milk doesn’t come in, or the baby doesn’t latch on, or whatever else can go wrong starts happening, I’ll switch to formula with no guilt.”
“Excellent attitude,” Laurel says, padding into the room. “I breastfed Matthew for about four months, although I pumped after the first two weeks because I had to go back to work and wanted to make sure he was okay with the bottle. I’ll probably do the same this time.”
We talk about breastfeeding and then have a fun debate about pacifiers for the next couple of hours. A little after noon, Luna comes in looking worried.
“Ladies, the storm is here and it’s looking ugly. I think we need to close up so I can send my employees home. Not to mention the four of you getting home safely.”
“Ugh. Leave it to Mother Nature to ruin the best day I’ve had in weeks.” I get to my feet and look around for my boots.
“Today is on me, ladies,” Laurel says. “It’s been an excellent distraction from the late-stage pregnancy blues.”
“Agreed,” Whitney says. “I think we should do it again in a few weeks, just before you give birth, Laurel. Next time will be my treat.”
“I’m happy to put you on the calendar,” Luna says.
Laurel hands her a credit card and takes care of the bill as we get our shoes and coats on.
“Oh, it’s coming down hard,” Sara says, making a face as she looks outside.
“It’s not that bad,” I say, getting out my keys. “I’ll have everybody home in no time.”
“I’m glad we got to spend the day together,” Whitney says. “I really needed girl time. I’ve been feeling sorry for myself, and now I’m in a much better head space.”
“I wasn’t feeling bad,” Sara says, “but girl time is always good. And you guys know I’m always here to listen if you need to vent and your man just doesn’t understand.”
“They try,” Laurel muses, chuckling. “Gage is truly wonderful. But at the end of the day, the only one who can have the baby is me, you know? All he can do is be supportive.”
“I guess that’s better than having a guy who isn’t supportive,” I say quietly. “I was all alone for my first pregnancy.” Not many people know about the baby I gave up for adoption, but these ladies do.
“And only seventeen,” Whitney whispers. “I want to hug you, as if it just happened yesterday!”
I smile as I pull onto the street. “I’m okay, you guys. Really. I only meant that having that supportive partner makes such a difference. I’m barely out of my first trimester and Miikka is such an important part of the process. Physically, this pregnancy is a thousand times harder, but emotionally it’s a million times easier.”
“That’s a good perspective to have,” Laurel says. “Thank you for that. Because we are lucky.”
“Wouldn’t trade my man for the world,” Sara says emphatically.
“Amen to that.” Whitney nods.
I get on the highway and head toward the suburbs where Sara lives. She’s the only one who’s slightly out of the way, though really only one exit and a few miles, so I don’t mind. The snow is coming down harder by the minute, though, which is surprising since the weather channels all predicted it wouldn’t start snowing until later this afternoon.
“I have a feeling this storm is going to be a bear,” Whitney says. “I’ll be glad to get home.”
“Same.” Sara is in the front seat since she’s the first stop. “You sure you’re comfortable driving, Charli?”
I nod. “I’ve lived here all of my adult life. I’m used to this. I’m definitely slowing down, though.”
“Gage just texted,” Laurel murmurs. “He’s concerned. He says it’s coming down pretty good at our house.”
“As long as it’s not white-out conditions, I’m good.” I say the words, but I’m beginning to have doubts. The snow is looking more and more treacherous with each passing minute.
“Oh, shit, Charli!” Sara lets out a yelp as the vehicle a few car lengths in front of me starts to fishtail.
“Fuck!” I let my foot off the gas but know better than to slam on the brakes. That will just put me in the same position as the guy in front of me.
