I had never been so afraid of something as ordinary as feeding a baby.<\/p>\n
Before Ada was born, I had assumed nursing would be one of the things motherhood taught me.<\/p>\n
I had worried about doing it properly.<\/p>\n
I had wondered whether it would hurt.<\/p>\n
I had imagined holding my daughter until she was satisfied.<\/p>\n
Those thoughts belonged to a woman whose child was still alive inside her.<\/p>\n
The woman sitting in Caleb Foster's house knew something different.<\/p>\n
A baby could want to feed and still be unable to manage it.<\/p>\n
I had seen that happen.<\/p>\n
I could not forget.<\/p>\n
The child in the brown blanket moved against my arm.<\/p>\n
I watched the small mouth.<\/p>\n
I wanted to see a strong response.<\/p>\n
Something that would tell me there was enough energy left.<\/p>\n
Instead, the baby's movements were weak.<\/p>\n
I adjusted my position carefully.<\/p>\n
My body ached.<\/p>\n
I had been walking through the cold.<\/p>\n
The chair felt solid beneath me, but I could not seem to make myself comfortable.<\/p>\n
Nothing about that evening was comfortable.<\/p>\n
I was in a stranger's home.<\/p>\n
I had left my sister's house against her husband's wishes.<\/p>\n
And I was holding a child whose mother had died giving birth.<\/p>\n
I thought of Lydia.<\/p>\n
I knew almost nothing about her.<\/p>\n
Only her name.<\/p>\n
The ranch.<\/p>\n
The twins.<\/p>\n
And the terrible fact that she had not survived their delivery.<\/p>\n
Yet I felt her absence everywhere.<\/p>\n
It was there in Caleb's tired face.<\/p>\n
It was there in the way he tried to manage both babies at once.<\/p>\n
It was there in the green blanket and the brown blanket.<\/p>\n
Two small children whose mother would never come through the door.<\/p>\n
I had wanted to tell myself I was helping them for a simple reason.<\/p>\n
They needed milk.<\/p>\n
I had milk.<\/p>\n
That was true.<\/p>\n
But sitting there, I understood why Amos had been so unwilling to let me come.<\/p>\n
Not because there was anything wrong with feeding hungry children.<\/p>\n
Because the situation was complicated.<\/p>\n
There were feelings in that room that neither Caleb nor I could easily speak about.<\/p>\n
We had both buried people we loved.<\/p>\n
He had lost Lydia.<\/p>\n
I had lost Thomas and Ada.<\/p>\n
Neither of us had come looking for another person's grief.<\/p>\n
Yet there we were.<\/p>\n
Bound together for the moment by the needs of two infants.<\/p>\n
I looked down at the baby again.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on, little one,\u201d I murmured.<\/p>\n
The child made another effort.<\/p>\n
I brought the baby to my breast.<\/p>\n
For a moment, there was only a weak movement.<\/p>\n
Then the small mouth found its place.<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
I was frightened to move.<\/p>\n
I was frightened even to breathe too deeply.<\/p>\n
There was an effort to suckle.<\/p>\n
It was faint.<\/p>\n
Not the steady feeding I hoped for.<\/p>\n
But it was an effort.<\/p>\n
I felt tears gather in my eyes.<\/p>\n
I kept watching.<\/p>\n
The child paused.<\/p>\n
Then tried again.<\/p>\n
I wanted to encourage every movement.<\/p>\n
I wanted to tell the baby that help had arrived.<\/p>\n
But I knew better than to promise what I could not control.<\/p>\n
I had promised Ada things I could not give her.<\/p>\n
I had told her I was there.<\/p>\n
I had believed being there should be enough.<\/p>\n
It was not.<\/p>\n
I could not save her with love.<\/p>\n
I could not save her by holding her closer.<\/p>\n
And I could not guarantee that this child would live merely because I had reached Cedar Run Ranch.<\/p>\n
So I remained quiet.<\/p>\n
I let the baby try.<\/p>\n
Caleb stood a little distance away.<\/p>\n
The other infant continued crying.<\/p>\n
Every so often, he moved the green blanket higher and gently changed the baby's position.<\/p>\n
He did not ask many questions.<\/p>\n
I was grateful.<\/p>\n
I knew he wanted answers.<\/p>\n
I knew he wanted someone to tell him the twins would recover.<\/p>\n
I also knew that a grieving father might hold on to any hopeful word.<\/p>\n
I could not bear the responsibility of offering him false certainty.<\/p>\n
At last, I looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere's some effort,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
His face changed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that good?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is better than none.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
I could see how carefully he was trying to accept that small amount of reassurance.<\/p>\n
He looked toward the baby.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe's been so quiet.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked down again.<\/p>\n
Until that moment, I had not known which child I was holding.<\/p>\n
A daughter.<\/p>\n
A little girl.<\/p>\n
The knowledge struck me unexpectedly.<\/p>\n
I thought of Ada.<\/p>\n
I thought of the name I had chosen.<\/p>\n
I thought of how I had imagined calling to her from another room.<\/p>\n
I had not expected to learn that the quiet twin was a girl while she was trying to feed in my arms.<\/p>\n
Yet there she was.<\/p>\n
Someone else's daughter.<\/p>\n
Someone else's small, vulnerable life.<\/p>\n
I looked at Caleb.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe's very tired.\u201d<\/p>\n
He lowered his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words sounded heavy.<\/p>\n
I wondered how long he had been watching his daughter weaken.<\/p>\n
How many times he had tried to feed her.<\/p>\n
How many times he had hoped the next attempt would be different.<\/p>\n
I remembered the helplessness.<\/p>\n
It was a terrible thing to recognize in another person's face.<\/p>\n
I looked at the child again.<\/p>\n
She had stopped for a moment.<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
Then she made another small effort.<\/p>\n
I could feel my body responding.<\/p>\n
For days, my milk had seemed like a punishment.<\/p>\n
Now I was beginning to understand that it could still be nourishment.<\/p>\n
The thought did not make me happy.<\/p>\n
Not immediately.<\/p>\n
It made me sad in a different way.<\/p>\n
Ada should have been the child I fed.<\/p>\n
I had imagined her in my arms.<\/p>\n
I had been ready to give her everything my body could provide.<\/p>\n
Instead, I was giving it to Lydia Foster's daughter.<\/p>\n
I felt ashamed of the small stab of jealousy that followed.<\/p>\n
The baby had done nothing wrong.<\/p>\n
She was hungry.<\/p>\n
She was alive.<\/p>\n
She needed care.<\/p>\n
Yet part of me wanted to cry out that this should have been Ada.<\/p>\n
Looking back, I can admit that.<\/p>\n
I did not want harm to come to either twin.<\/p>\n
I wanted them to live.<\/p>\n
But grief had not made me generous in every corner of my heart.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it made me bitter.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it made me selfish.<\/p>\n
I had to recognize those feelings without allowing them to decide what I did.<\/p>\n
The child continued trying.<\/p>\n
I held her carefully.<\/p>\n
I thought about the mornings at the basin.<\/p>\n
I had treated my milk as something useless.<\/p>\n
Something to be removed.<\/p>\n
Something that only reminded me of what I had lost.<\/p>\n
Now every small swallow mattered.<\/p>\n
The change was almost too much to understand.<\/p>\n
I wanted to tell Ada about it.<\/p>\n
That thought came so naturally that it hurt.<\/p>\n
I had spent months imagining telling my daughter things.<\/p>\n
Little things.<\/p>\n
What the weather was like.<\/p>\n
What her father had been like.<\/p>\n
Why a certain book mattered.<\/p>\n
Now I was holding another baby and wanting to explain something to a child who would never hear me.<\/p>\n
I pressed my lips together.<\/p>\n
I was not going to cry loudly and frighten Caleb.<\/p>\n
He had enough to manage.<\/p>\n
After a little while, the baby seemed to rest.<\/p>\n
I looked up at her father.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe may need time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Caleb nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe's had a difficult day.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost smiled at the understatement.<\/p>\n
A difficult day.<\/p>\n
The child had gone nearly without nourishment.<\/p>\n
Her mother was dead.<\/p>\n
Her father had been turned away from the place where he hoped to find help.<\/p>\n
And now a stranger was trying to feed her.<\/p>\n
But I understood why Caleb chose such small words.<\/p>\n
Sometimes the truth was too large to say plainly.<\/p>\n
I had done the same thing.<\/p>\n
I had told people I was tired when I meant that I could barely bear to wake up.<\/p>\n
I had said I was managing when I was not.<\/p>\n
I had thanked Martha for supper while fighting the urge to leave the table and cry.<\/p>\n
We used ordinary words because the others were too difficult.<\/p>\n
Caleb looked at the child in green.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe needs feeding too.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
There was no surprise in that.<\/p>\n
The crying baby had been telling us so since I arrived.<\/p>\n
But I had been afraid to take my attention away from his sister.<\/p>\n
I looked down at the little girl.<\/p>\n
She was resting against me.<\/p>\n
Her face was still small and tired.<\/p>\n
I could not tell how much nourishment she had managed.<\/p>\n
I knew only that she had tried.<\/p>\n
Caleb moved closer.<\/p>\n
\u201cShould I take her?\u201d<\/p>\n
I hesitated.<\/p>\n
Not because I wanted to keep her.<\/p>\n
Because I was frightened of losing the small progress we had made.<\/p>\n
But the other baby needed help.<\/p>\n
And Caleb had been holding him for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cCarefully.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gave me a tired look.<\/p>\n
\u201cI've been doing little else.\u201d<\/p>\n
I understood what he meant.<\/p>\n
For six weeks, his days had been filled with holding children.<\/p>\n
Crying children.<\/p>\n
Hungry children.<\/p>\n
Children who could not understand why the woman who had given them life was no longer there.<\/p>\n
He took his daughter into his arms.<\/p>\n
I watched the brown blanket settle against him.<\/p>\n
The baby made a small sound.<\/p>\n
Then she was quiet.<\/p>\n
I could not stop watching her.<\/p>\n
Caleb noticed.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe does that,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGoes quiet enough to frighten me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
He said it without embarrassment.<\/p>\n
He had reached the point where fear was no longer something worth hiding.<\/p>\n
I understood.<\/p>\n
I had been there with Ada.<\/p>\n
I wished I could tell him something more useful.<\/p>\n
Instead, I said the only thing I knew.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe'll keep watching her.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
Then he offered me the other twin.<\/p>\n
The baby in green was a boy.<\/p>\n
He was louder than his sister.<\/p>\n
His cries came with more strength.<\/p>\n
I felt relief at that.<\/p>\n
Then immediately felt foolish.<\/p>\n
Loud crying did not guarantee health.<\/p>\n
I knew that.<\/p>\n
But after watching the girl struggle, the sound of her brother's voice was almost welcome.<\/p>\n
I accepted him.<\/p>\n
He was warm beneath the blanket.<\/p>\n
Restless.<\/p>\n
His little face tightened as he cried.<\/p>\n
I drew him closer.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere now,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
He did not calm immediately.<\/p>\n
I did not expect him to.<\/p>\n
He was hungry.<\/p>\n
He had been trying to tell everyone.<\/p>\n
I remembered how helpless I had felt when Ada could not cry strongly.<\/p>\n
Now I found myself grateful for a child who was making his distress impossible to ignore.<\/p>\n
I settled him against me.<\/p>\n
He searched.<\/p>\n
There was more force in his movements.<\/p>\n
I felt the difference at once.<\/p>\n
I held him steady.<\/p>\n
Then he began to feed.<\/p>\n
I waited for the weak pauses I had felt with his sister.<\/p>\n
They did not come in quite the same way.<\/p>\n
He seemed stronger.<\/p>\n
More determined.<\/p>\n
His little hands moved against the cloth.<\/p>\n
I let out a breath I had been holding.<\/p>\n
Caleb watched from beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs he taking it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a moment, his expression became almost unrecognizable.<\/p>\n
The fear did not disappear.<\/p>\n
The exhaustion remained.<\/p>\n
But I saw relief break through it.<\/p>\n
He looked down at the girl in brown.<\/p>\n
Then at the boy feeding in my arms.<\/p>\n
I knew what he was thinking.<\/p>\n
One child had managed to take nourishment.<\/p>\n
Perhaps the other could too.<\/p>\n
Perhaps neither of them had to face another night without enough food.<\/p>\n
He lowered himself into a chair.<\/p>\n
It was the first time I had seen him sit.<\/p>\n
He held his daughter close and stared at his son.<\/p>\n
Neither of us spoke for a while.<\/p>\n
The room was still not quiet.<\/p>\n
There were small movements.<\/p>\n
Soft infant sounds.<\/p>\n
The tired breathing of two adults who had seen too much death.<\/p>\n
But the desperate crying had eased.<\/p>\n
I looked down at the boy.<\/p>\n
He continued feeding.<\/p>\n
I felt something inside me loosen.<\/p>\n
Not happiness.<\/p>\n
Not peace.<\/p>\n
Something smaller.<\/p>\n
The knowledge that for this moment, I was doing what I had come to do.<\/p>\n
I could not bring back Ada.<\/p>\n
I could not give Caleb his wife.<\/p>\n
I could not undo the three days since my daughter's burial.<\/p>\n
But I could feed this child.<\/p>\n
And I could try again with his sister.<\/p>\n
I looked at Caleb.<\/p>\n
He was watching the green blanket.<\/p>\n
His eyes were wet.<\/p>\n
He did not wipe them immediately.<\/p>\n
I turned my attention back to the baby.<\/p>\n
I wanted to give him the privacy of pretending I had not noticed.<\/p>\n
After a while, the boy slowed.<\/p>\n
His small body seemed less tense.<\/p>\n
I adjusted the blanket around him.<\/p>\n
I did not know how long he had been feeding.<\/p>\n
Time had become strangely difficult to measure.<\/p>\n
With Ada, I had counted every minute.<\/p>\n
Now I found myself counting small movements.<\/p>\n
A swallow.<\/p>\n
A breath.<\/p>\n
Another effort.<\/p>\n
I wanted each one to continue.<\/p>\n
When the boy finally rested, I looked toward his father.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe's taken some milk.\u201d<\/p>\n
Caleb closed his eyes.<\/p>\n
For one moment, he looked as though the relief might be more than he could bear.<\/p>\n
Then he opened them.<\/p>\n
His daughter moved weakly against his chest.<\/p>\n
I saw his attention return to her immediately.<\/p>\n
Mine did too.<\/p>\n
The boy in green had managed to feed.<\/p>\n
That mattered.<\/p>\n
But the little girl in brown still needed us.<\/p>\n
And I knew that one successful feeding was not enough to promise either child's safety.<\/p>\n
Source: life5.aubtu.biz<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n I had never been so afraid of something as ordinary as feeding a baby. Before Ada was born, I had assumed nursing would be one of the things motherhood taught … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":11230,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11236","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama-sory"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11236","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11236"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11236\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11256,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11236\/revisions\/11256"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/11230"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11236"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11236"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11236"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nClick here to continue reading: PART 7: One Twin Had Finally Taken Milk, but the Little Girl in Brown Needed More Than a Single Night of Help<\/a><\/strong><\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"