delivered the placenta and then a big warm hospital blanket covered Maeve’s legs and belly and arms until finally her baby was tucked snugly with just his downy cheek against his mother, turned sideways toward Rayne, with big dark eyes and little squashed nose, and deep pink rosebud lips and a gorgeous mouth like Maeve’s. And it was done.
His chest felt tight. ‘Hello, there, buddy,’ Rayne said softly.
He glanced at the clock. Ten past twelve. Boxing Day baby. Eighteen hours after arriving in Lyrebird Lake here he was—a father. New responsibility swamped him.
Emergency
MAEVE LAY THERE with the weight of her son on her chest, feeling the little wriggles on the outside of her body instead of the inside as he shifted. Could smell the unmistakable scent of new babies, and blood, and almost taste the relief in the room.
Why were they all worried? She had this. She looked at Rayne, who was sinking into the chair beside the bed that Tara had pulled up for him, unnaturally pale. His hand was halfway to the baby and hung suspended in the air as if he didn’t know whether to touch or not.
‘He’s your son,’ she whispered. Wishing he would kiss her. As if he’d heard her, he half stood and leaned across and kissed her lips. His hand drifted down and he touched the downy cheek of their child.
‘Thank you. He’s amazing. You were incredible.’ He blinked a couple of times. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Buzzing,’ she said, and grinned at him, and he shook his head and sank back in the chair. Looked like Rayne had aged ten years, she thought to herself. Still, the years sat well on him.
She glanced at Tara, who was taking her blood pressure. Waited until she was finished and then caught her hand. ‘Thanks, Tara.’
Tara smiled mistily. ‘I’m going to hold you to that promise.’
‘Why? Because you know you’ll be much quieter than me?’
Tara laughed. ‘You always will be more outspoken than I am. You tell it like it is. Fabulous birth. I loved it.’
She glanced back at Rayne, who was looking at them both as if they were mad.
Tara said, ‘Can Simon and Angus come in now? Then everyone will go away so you three can get to know each other.’
Maeve looked at Rayne, who left it up to her, so Simon and Angus came in.
After congratulations Tara took Angus aside, and Maeve could distantly hear that they were discussing the labour and birth, the blood loss, which had been a little more than usual but had settled now, and she saw Simon pump Rayne’s hand.
‘You look ten years younger, Simon.’ Maeve teased him, as he leaned in to kiss her.
‘I gave them to Rayne. You, sister, dear, are a worry that thankfully is not mine any more.’ He slapped Rayne on the back. ‘Welcome to parenthood, Rayne. It’s never going to be the same again.’
Rayne still looked in shock. For a tough guy that was pretty funny. ‘I get that premonition.’
‘You look pale,’ Simon said.
‘I feel pale.’ Rayne glanced across at the new baby, a baby with his own huge dark eyes and maybe it was his mouth.
Maeve remembered a new mother telling her once that when her baby had been first born she could see all the familial likenesses but after a couple of hours she’d only been able to see her baby as whole. Maeve tried to imprint the separate features before that happened. She could see his father’s stamp as plainly as if there was a big arrow pointing to it. The brows and nose were from her side.
Rayne shook his head and smiled at her and she soaked up like a hungry sponge the amazed awe he was exuding in bucketloads. She must look a mess but for once she didn’t care.
Maeve relaxed back in the bed, letting the euphoria wash over her. She’d always loved watching the way new mums seemed to have this sudden surge of energy, and now she was feeling it herself. She did feel that if she needed to, she could pick up her baby and run and save them both. Probably needed a few more clothes on for that, though, or she’d be scaring people.
She’d discarded the sarong hours ago. Clothes had seemed too much of an annoying distraction in the maelstrom of labour. Her baby wriggled and began to suck his fingers on her chest. His head lay between her breasts with his cheek over her heart, and she smiled mistily down at him. Next he would dribble on his fingers then he would start to poke and rub her with his wet hands as his instincts began to take over.
Yep, he was doing that now, she was careful not to distract him as his little head lifted and he glanced around.
Simon and Angus left and she barely noticed as she saw her baby look and sniff for the dark areolas and the nipple he would find a way to arrive at.
‘Watch him,’ she whispered to Rayne, who leaned closer. ‘He’ll bob his head and wriggle and find his own way to where he needs to go.’
The baby’s hands were kneading the softness of her breast under his tiny fingers, and his pink knees had drawn up under his belly as if he was going to crawl. ‘Can’t you just move him there?’ Rayne said quietly.
‘I could, but he needs to do a sequence. He needs to learn to poke out his tongue before he attaches, and he’ll get there under his own steam at just the right moment.’
‘He’s only half an hour old.’
‘That’s why a baby stays skin to skin on his mother’s chest for that first hour. Shouldn’t get nursed by anyone else or have needles or get weighed or anything. It gives them the chance to do all this and the breastfeeding rates go through the roof if the baby attaches by himself. You watch.’
Baby was bobbing his head up and down like a little jack-in-the-box, and Maeve saw him narrow his gaze on the left nipple and lean towards it. Tiny jerking movements, and shoulder leans, and hand scrunching, and slowly his body changed angle, his neck stretched, and incredibly he was almost there. Another wriggle and head bob and stretch, a series of little tongue peeps as he began to edge closer.
‘Come on, little guy,’ his father whispered, and she had a sudden vision of Rayne on the sideline of a tiny tots soccer game, being the dad yelling, ‘Go, son!’
‘Do you like Connor as his name?’
Rayne looked at her. Grinned. ‘Spelt with two ns.’
‘Lord, yes. As much as I like the Irish version of Conor, this child will not go through life having to spell his name, like I did.’
‘Or have people say “Rain, as in wet?”‘
‘I was teasing.’
‘Beautifully.’ He leaned across and kissed her and in that moment her world was complete. ‘I think he looks very much like a Connor.’
‘You can choose the second name.’ She saw his face shutter. Felt the withdrawal.
‘I didn’t do enough to warrant that privilege.’
She felt the slap of reality right when she didn’t want to. Acknowledged he was feeling inadequate, and maybe even vulnerable at the moment but, hey, she was the one with no clothes and had exposed herself to the world. She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Then try harder.’
She searched in her mind for a way to make him see that unless he wanted to, they would never lose him. ‘Besides, he’s going to cost you a fortune.’
He grinned and she saw the tension fall from his shoulders. Saw his look at her and the comprehension of how adroitly she’d manoeuvred him. Given him something he really could do, regardless of his parenting skills. His smile had a touch of the old bad-boy Rayne who’d been