Olivia was our baby nurse. She was my sister-in law’s baby nurse too. And a lot of other – what are we called? Yuppies? Yuppies from
Olivia was strict despite her soft sweet voice. But we liked her rules. We liked knowing what to do. We breast feed for 25 minutes on each side. Not 24. We Purelled our hands, and made everyone else too as soon as they walked in our apartment. We rocked her to sleep like Olivia showed us, and put her down as soon as she was asleep so she wouldn’t get used to sleeping on us.
Olivia gave me a list of things we needed from Buy Buy Baby. I went by myself. A mistake. It was easier to get lost in Buy Buy Baby than it is in IKEA. Spatially and emotionally. The aisles are wide and the shelves are a hundred feet high, full of a million mini-sized products. It’s like the stars in space.
I labored through aisles of organic baby wipes and Oscar the Grouch pee pee tepees. My cart was still empty when Melissa called to add to my list.
“Nipple guards,” Melissa said.
I wrote it down at the top of my list - nipple guards. For nipples. Which nipples, I wasn’t sure. I looked at a wall of nipples to the ceiling. No guards. I looked back at my list, hoping to find something I could find. “Rectal thermometer.” Yes. It was. And I was starting to feel as if I had a fever.
That’s when I saw her, bobbing up and down behind a rack of onesies. The Buy Buy Baby river nymph. She had a haircut like a Pinocchio doll. Short, black, little boy in
“Need some help?” she asked.
She grabbed the list from my hands.
“I’m Rachel,” she chirped.
Rachel scanned the list, nodding at each item. She mentally mapped our route. I was saved.
“Ok - nipple guards!” she sang.
Rachel sprouted wings and flew up to the top of the nipple wall, where they keep the nipple guards. Actually, they keep the guards on a small shelf, right behind where I was standing.
“Do you know how to use these?” Rachel asked.
Rachel took one out and held it against my nipple. Over the shirt. Of course.
“The milk comes out there,” she said. “See the little hole? Sucky sucky!”
Rachel looked back at the list and skipped off down the aisle. She found the $400 portable hands free breast pump. The Dr. Brown’s bottle scrubber. The Aquafor butt jelly. Soon, the cart was full. I had everything. And all of it had to do with eating or shitting and pissing.
I was a hero.
When I got home, Olivia was teaching Melissa to breast feed. She had one hand on Juliet’s head, the other on Melissa’s – you know. A lot of women had had their hands on Melissa in the past few days. It hadn’t been as hot as I pictured.
“We want Juliet’s neck back when she’s feeding, Melissa,” Olivia said. “And with your other hand, massage the breast where it is hard.”
Olivia massaged Melissa. I dropped the enormous plastic bags.
“It still really hurts,” Melissa said.
Olivia took the bags and began rummaging through them. She put things into piles, and ordered me to put certain piles in certain places. She found the nipple guards, and unwrapped them. She pulled Juliet off of Melissa and armored Melissa’s nipple.
“Oh my god,” Melissa said.
“Good?” I asked.
“Amazing.”
“Daddy,” Olivia said. “We’re also going to need these things.”
Olivia gave me another list. In the two weeks Olivia was with us, I went back to Buy Buy Baby 9 times.
Rachel was always expecting me. She had the video monitor waiting for me. I was having the same experience as every new parent who went into the store. Needing all the same things, everything. And each thing worked when I brought it home, like it was supposed to. For every problem, there was a solution wrapped in plastic.
Olivia watched our every move, and corrected it. Our baby was eating and sleeping and pooping like a baby should. Maybe better. We were well rested, relaxed. At the end of two weeks, we were ready.
Olivia left. And it all went to shit.
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