She held Wren for most of them.
She told the nurses how the baby should be wrapped.
She told me I was holding my own daughter incorrectly.
She suggested formula before I’d even had time to understand feeding.
She told the lactation consultant that I was “overly emotional” and might need something to calm down.
When she finally left, she kissed Roland on both cheeks.
She kissed Wren on the forehead.
For me, she gave a light pat on the foot through the blanket.
“Get some sleep,” she said. “You look awful.”
After she left, Roland fell asleep in the chair beside the window.
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