Chapter 5

It’s Nurse Marley Manners. Relief flashes through me so powerfully I shudder.

I lift a wailing Isa out of her bassinet, and, holding her tight against me, I shuffle to the front door, not an easy task in my condition.

The bell rings again. “Coming!” I call out, unable to hush Isa.

Reaching the door, I manage to one-handedly unlock it and swing it open. Any trace of fear I had evaporates when I see the tall, statuesque woman standing before me. The stunning blonde-haired woman I met at Starbucks a few months ago. The lovely woman whose heartwarming photos with adorable babies in her arms grace her website.

As debilitated and frustrated and stupid as I feel, I want to jump for joy.

“Nurse Manners! Welcome! I’m so happy to see you!” The latter is an understatement given that minutes ago I thought my baby and I were going to be gunned down. If I weren’t holding screaming Isa, I’d hug her.

She beams. “I’m a little early. I hope you don’t mind.”

Almost the same height, we hover at the threshold, facing each other. Embarrassment sweeps over me. I must look like a total wreck. Exhausted, disheveled, frazzled.

She, on the other hand, looks like an immaculate professional. I actually wasn’t expecting her to wear a nurse’s uniform, but she is. A wrinkle-free, long-sleeve white dress that hugs the curves of her body and grazes her knees, along with sheer white stockings and sensible yet fashionable white leather sneakers. Her blonder-than-I-remember hair is tied back in a low, loose ponytail. She is more stunning than I remember. It’s her deep-set eyes. They’re the color of amethysts. I’ve never seen orbs like them before.

She returns my smile. Hers is wide and toothy. One that reaches her cheekbones. Her makeup is minimal…just a bit of mascara and a touch of pink lip gloss, yet she looks like a million bucks. A golden glow radiates off her flawless complexion.

“I’m so happy you remembered me,” she says.

“I kept your card. I had a gut feeling it would come in handy.”

“I had the same feeling. You know, fate or kismet, whatever they call it.”

“Totally.” I glance down. By her feet is a large black duffel. “Please come on in. I’m sorry I can’t help you with your bag.”

“No worries.” She casts her eyes over screaming Isa, and another wide smile spans her face. “And besides, you’ve got your hands full.”

I huff out a breath as I hoist Isa higher on my shoulder. “That’s for sure. She’s been fussy all day.”

She moves next to me so that she’s facing the baby. “Isa, right?”

“Wow! You have a great memory.”

“That’s one of my superpowers. I don’t forget anything.”

That used to be me until pregnancy hormones robbed me of my memory and shrouded me in a brain fog. The night nanny’s gaze stays on Isa.

“She’s absolutely beautiful.” She begins to sing, her voice as sweet as a nightingale’s.“Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, Mama’s gonna…”

Remarkably, my baby’s wails reduce to whimpers as she holds her new caregiver in her sapphire-blue eyes. Is Nurse Manners really a baby whisperer?

A sudden spasm thunders through my gut. I wince in pain. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Nurse Marley. She comes inside and closes the door behind her.

“Please, let me help you.” Smiling, she deftly takes Isa from me. My eyes stay on her as she lovingly holds my baby against her chest with both hands, cupping her unstable head in one. It’s like they’re molded to hold her. Her hands are large, her fingers long and slender, the nails cut short and manicured with a layer of frosted white nail polish, not a chip in sight. I also notice she’s still not wearing any kind of band on her ring finger. Should I assume she’s not married? These days rings don’t mean a thing, and for a nanosecond, I think about the five-carat-diamond one I had to take off (along with my wedding band) because it was cutting off my circulation. Oddly, I don’t miss it and have no desire to put it back on.

“Where would you like me to go?” she asks.

I hesitate. I’ve honestly not given much thought to where she should stay. I suppose she could sleep in the guest room until my mother comes later this week. But after that, I’m not sure where. While the one-level, open-plan house is sprawling, close to five thousand square feet, it is not equipped with a lot of bedrooms. The two additional ones were converted into Ned’s office and a home gym.

“Why don’t we chat in the living room for a bit? And we can go over a few things.” I haven’t had time to write up an agenda and have no real clue what I expect of her. Except to take care of Isa whenever she wakes up at night so Ned and I can get some much-needed sleep.

Adjusting Isa so she’s cradled in the crook of her arm, she reaches for her duffel and accompanies me into the living room.

“I’m sorry, I move like a snail,” I titter.

“No apologies needed. You’ve just had a C-section, and with your condition…”

“I’m hoping I’ll get better soon.” Though it’s only been three days since I came home from the hospital, the truth is sometimes I feel like I won’t. Some women, I’ve read, never recover from PGP. I haven’t shared that with Ned.

“With rest, you will. I’m here to help you.” As we step into the living room, she asks, “Where would you like me to sit?”

“Anywhere you’d like.”

She makes her way to the low, slick leather couch that faces the floor-to-ceiling fieldstone fireplace. With Isa still in her arm, she takes a seat, folding one slender ankle over the other, and placing her duffel bag on the floor beside them. My legs and back are killing me, but I remain standing.

“Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

“Thanks, but I’m good. I stopped at Whole Foods for a salad on my way here.”

A small wave of relief washes over me. I’m glad she’s eaten because the pickings in our kitchen are next to nothing. Our refrigerator and pantry haven’t been stocked since Rosita abruptly left for El Salvador last week. I couldn’t expect Ned, who’s never shopped for food or cooked a day in his life, to run out for groceries after flying in from France late Sunday night. Since I got home from the hospital, I’ve been surviving on protein bars, and the few frozen things that remain in our almost empty freezer.

“Hon, come sit.” Her voice warm and inviting, she pats the cushion next to her.

“Um, it’s hard for me to sit on that couch.” My eyes flit to the ugly-as-sin recliner.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you up.”

Reluctantly, I do as she asks and sink into the low-slung couch. I’m going to be stuck here for life.

She gently rocks a contented Isa while her eyes skitter around the room, flitting from corner to corner. “By the way, your house is spectacular.”

My gaze follows hers as she takes in the spacious high-ceilinged main room, with its sleek contemporary Italian furnishings, an amalgamation of shiny leather, glass, and brushed metals. Only the abstract art on the walls gives it any color, the recessed lighting its only warmth.

“Thanks, but it’s really my husband’s house, not mine.”

“Ned.”

It’s not a question. The way she says his name makes it sound like she knows him.

“Yes. You know him?”

“No. You mentioned his name during our phone interview.”

“Oh, r-right.” I must be losing my mind. Or it’s the brain fog again.

“I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“Believe me, he’s looking forward to meeting you even more.”

She smiles. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve brought you something.” She glances down at the duffel bag, then unzips it. Without letting go of Isa, she manages to extract a medium-size box that’s gift-wrapped in pink-and-white print paper. A shimmering pink bow tops it off.

“What’s this?” I ask as she places it on my lap.

“A baby present.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I do this for all my clients. Open it.”

She gently kisses my baby on her dewy scalp. Though the kiss is innocent and affectionate, there’s a tiny part of me that feels violated.

“Sweetie, tell your pretty mommy to open the present. It’s something for you.”

I pull off the bow and tear off the paper. I gasp. Inside a see-through box is a baby doll that looks so much like Isa that they could have been separated at birth. It’s almost scary. The same gem-like blue eyes, golden hair, rosebud lips, and slightly dimpled chin. She’s even wearing a pink striped onesie that looks just like the one Isa has on.

“It’s a Baby Reborn doll,” says Nurse Marley. “I had one as a child. While Isa is too young for it now, she will love it when she gets a little older, and I want her to remember me by it.”

“I-it’s…she’s beautiful,” I splutter.

She smiles again. “Each one of these dolls is hand-painted—the artisans use real human hair—and no two are alike. They’re collector items.”

“It’s astonishing how much she looks like Isa…right down to her tiny wrinkled fingers and toes. They could be twins.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” Nurse Marley juts her chin. “Open the box and take the doll out.”

“Don’t you think she should stay in the box? Until Isa can appreciate her?”

“No, it’s a gift for you as well. I want you to hold her. The experience will make you feel more comfortable with Isa.”

Fumbling to open the box, I do as she asks. Amazingly, the soft-bodied, perfectly weighted doll feels like a real baby. And what’s even more amazing, when I place her against my chest, she coos and I can feel a heartbeat.

While I get used to holding the doll, Isa begins to act up. Her wails pierce my ears.

“I think she’s hungry again,” I say forlornly.

“Ava, let me see you nurse.”

I feel myself cringe. “I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

“Hon, let me be the judge.”

Hesitantly, I set the Baby Reborn doll aside and loosen my robe so I can unbutton my pajama top. Nurse Marley puts Isa to my swollen right breast. The baby struggles to latch on to my nipple. As her cries grow louder, I feel tears prick the back of my eyes.

“See, I told you. It’s a disaster.”

Nurse Marley studies my breasts. “I see the problem. Your nipples are on the flat side. It’s hard for Isa to latch on to them.”

“What am I going to do?” Tears begin to fall.

“Do you have a breast pump?”

“I think so, but I don’t know where it is.” It’s probably one of the baby gifts I registered for and among the hundreds sent by my husband’s employees and clients piled up in my garage. I cry harder, my shoulders heaving.

“Shh, don’t cry, Ava. It’s not the end of the world.” She tenderly dabs my cheeks with the back of her hand. “Lactation issues are common, and if I had to guess by how small your breasts are, your milk supply is low, so the breast pump doesn’t really matter.” She pauses. “And I assume you’re on antibiotics and painkillers on account of your C-section.”

I tell her I am. Though my doctor assured me they were safe for nursing, I didn’t 100% believe him. Nurse Marley shares my concern.

“Given everything, the best thing to do is to put Isa on formula right away so she gets nutrition.”

My still-watering eyes lob onto hers. “But everything I’ve heard and read says ‘breast is best.’”

She looks at me compassionately. “Hon, not every woman in the world can nurse. I’ve taken care of dozens of babies who’ve required formula for one reason or another, and all of them grew up to be healthy, thriving toddlers.”

“I—I don’t have any formula. Maybe I can call Ned and ask him to stop and pick up some on his way home.” I dread making that call and can’t imagine my husband stopping off at a drugstore and roaming the aisles in search of baby formula after a long day at work.

“No need,” comforts Nurse Marley. “I brought some along, just in case.”

Isa still wailing madly, I watch as she again reaches inside her duffel. She quickly retrieves the box of formula. I read the label. It’s written in a language I don’t understand.

“It’s a German brand, inspired by real breast milk,” our new caregiver says. “Organic with no additives. Every celebrity mother I’ve worked for swears by it. And so do I. It reduces crying within twenty-four hours and helps with brain development.” She lays the cheery yellow box on the coffee table. “I’ve also brought along some latex-free bottles, a sterilizer, and a bottle warmer…”

I stare in wonder. What else does she have in her Mary Poppins-like bag? A flying umbrella?

“I hope you have some bottled water, so we don’t have to use tap water.”

My mind rummages through the almost empty fridge. “We don’t, but the fridge has a filtered water dispenser.”

She pulls a face. “Hmm, I guess that’ll have to do until I buy some Evian.”

The only kind of water Ned will drink. What his late mother drank.

Nurse Marley turns to me. “If you want, you can come with me and I’ll show you how to prepare the formula. It’s easy-peasy and takes no time.”

“If it’s okay by you, can I stay here with Isa?” The thought of getting up is exhausting.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

Gathering a bottle and the sterilizer from her bag, and the box of formula from the table, Nurse Marley springs off the couch and makes her way to the adjacent kitchen. With our open floor plan, I’m able to watch her prepare the bottle. It does look easy. Boil the water while sanitizing the bottle. Add the water and a scoop of the formula to the bottle and mix. Then cool it under cold running water.

After testing the temperature of the liquid mixture on the back of a washed hand, she returns with the bottle and settles back on the couch next to me. Instead of handing me the bottle, she peels Isa away from me and cradles her in her right arm, carefully supporting her tiny, tender head in the crook of her elbow. I’m awed by her confidence and skill. She looks so comfortable. So natural. Almost as if she was born to hold my baby…and Isa was born to be in her arms. A mix of awe, envy, and sadness surges inside me as I watch the way Isa takes to her and calms down. Her crying subsides.

“You are a baby whisperer!” I tell our night nanny.

She laughs, almost dismissively. “That’s what all my clients tell me, but I wouldn’t go that far.”

She’s as humble as she is capable—such a lovely quality—I think, as she gently rocks Isa, keeping her gaze on her.

“Hi, my sweet girl. I’m Marley and I’m going to take care of you.” A beat. “Ava, watch me feed her and feel free to ask any questions.”

My eyes stay locked on her as she angles Isa’s head slightly upward and, with her left hand, guides the bottle nipple to Isa’s rosebud mouth. With a little nudging, my baby parts her lips and sucks vigorously. The suckling sounds are like music to my ears.

“Wow! She’s eating like a champion!”

Nurse Marley nods. “This little one is a champion!”

“Can I feed her?” I ask hesitantly.

“Sweetie, I think it’s best that I do it for now. You’ll have many opportunities, and I want Isa to get used to me.”

Though a globule of disappointment rises in my chest, it disappears quickly, replaced by the bright burst of joy I feel from watching my baby feed.

As Isa continues to suck, her blue eyes grow heavy. The bottle almost empty, her lids close. She’s fallen asleep.

“Is she okay?” I ask, nervousness in my voice.

Nurse Marley smiles. “Totally. All this sucking has worn the poor little thing out. Let’s put her down for the night.” She pauses. “But first let’s burp her.”

She carefully puts my sleeping baby on a shoulder, supporting her bottom with one hand, and begins to softly pat her back with the other.

“Won’t that wake her?” I ask.

“Not if you do it right. It’s important. The burp will release gas and help her sleep better through the night.” Her gaze meets mine. “Hon, watch me.”

My eyes stay on her as she continues with her light staccato taps. Thirty seconds later, her eyes never opening, my baby lets out the tiniest of burps. Marley smiles triumphantly.

“Mission accomplished.”

A blanket of warmth falls over me.I feel so blessed to have Nurse Marley in my life.

Things are only going to get better.

For Ned and me.

For me and my baby.

For all of us.