The day after Thanksgiving, I was awakened by Miracle crying. Shavonda was asleep, having been up earlier with the baby. I checked Miracle's diaper. She needed to be changed, which I did. But she still was fussy. I held her in my arms and rocked her, hoping she'd go back to sleep. She quieted down a bit but was still restless. Shavonda rolled over and sleepily murmured, "Daddy, look in the fridge. I have some bottles made up already." Bottles? I thought we were breastfeeding.
I carried Miracle to the living room and set her down in the baby carrier for a minute, and carried it to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I saw 3 bottles of milk in the door shelf. Each had a little tab of masking tape with a date and time on it. Suddenly it dawned on me what had happened. My queen, organized as she was in her business life, had applied the same principles to childcare. I knew we didn't have baby formula around, so the bottles must be her own milk she'd pumped. The dates were so we could keep track of how long the milk had been there. I chose the oldest bottle and, removing the nipple, I heated it in a pot of hot water until it was warm.
I picked up Miracle again, and fed her the bottle. She took to it like she'd done it before. Evidently, Shavonda had been busy while I was at work earlier in the week. I gained another level of respect for her. She'd set the bottles up so that either of us could feed the baby while the other slept. Miracle took about half the bottle and was soon asleep in my arms. I sat on the couch with her, gently rocking the sleeping baby as daylight slowly crept into the house. My parents and Grandma were still asleep, and soon I was drifting off myself. I walked back to the bedroom and put Miracle in her crib, before climbing back into bed and curling up to my sleeping wife.
This holiday weekend was going to be my time to truly bond with my little princess. I didn't have to be back on the job until Monday morning, so I had 3 whole days for us to get used to each other. Plus, Barbara hadn't taken the kids for the weekend, so we'd be a whole family this weekend. Mom, Dad and Grandma weren't going home until Sunday, so they'd be around as well.
Shavonda had taken to sleeping in her nursing bra, but other than that, she still preferred to be naked. The past few days, we'd fallen into a routine. We did a lot of kissing and rubbed each other's backs and sore spots, but tried as best we could to keep our touching above the waistline. Shavonda, even though she told me she still got urges, had to let her body heal. And for me, celibacy for the six weeks or so until she healed was a small price to pay for everything she'd brought to my life. Especially our little Miracle baby.
One thing we could do now, was indulge in the rum we'd stopped drinking because of her pregnancy. She'd had a few during Thanksgiving. It was a sort of family tradition, that while the men would watch the games and drink beer, the women would gather in the kitchen with their bottles of wine or E&J, or in Shavonda's case, Calico Jack, and cut up. Honestly, while I'd sat with the men for a while, I had zero interest in football, and wound up with the ladies, rubbing my beautiful wife's back while they all cut up.
I figured, I'd let my queen sleep in, but I'd no sooner drifted off to sleep with her than I heard rustling in the kitchen. Mom, as usual, had gotten up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast. Soon I could smell eggs and pancakes cooking. Ethan and Brittany were now up. They loved Mom's pancakes. I wandered out to the kitchen and sat down, helping myself to the food piled on the kitchen table.
"Von's still sleeping," I told Mom. "So's Miracle. I'm going to let them sleep."
"Was that you I heard up a little while ago with the baby?" she asked. "If it was, that was sweet."
"That was me. Von was tired, and she had bottles made, so I fed Miracle."
"Well, I'm glad you're still helping her out like that. And the baby is a cutie pie. She has your eyes. We're so glad to finally meet her. I can't wait until she gets a little older and we can spoil her," Mom was obviously thrilled.
Just then, Shavonda walked in, sleepy eyed, dressed in one of the maternity dresses that now hung loosely on her body. She cradled a still sleeping Miracle in her arms. "I smelled the food," she yawned. "Sorry I wasn't awake or I'd have made you breakfast."
"Be quiet. You need to rest and heal," Mom said. "I don't mind doing this while we're here."
Shavonda placed the baby in the carrier in the living room, then carrier her back into the kitchen. She sat down and helped herself to several pancakes, dousing them with syrup. "It's nice not to have to watch what I eat anymore. Though I did like the bananas and the kids did too. But now I can eat whatever I want it's great." Turning to me she said. "161." I knew what she meant. The baby had added 32 pounds to her weight, topping her out at 173. She'd lost 12 pounds of that since then. We intended to work on getting her back down to the 141 she weighed before the baby.
Not that her weight was an issue for me. At 164 she was still an ebony goddess in my eyes. But I didn't want her beating herself up over something as insignificant as a few pounds. So, when we had warm days, I wanted to take her on the hikes we'd gone on the summer before. Or better yet, when I'd moved in, we found her old bike when we were clearing out the basement. It now resided in the tool shed in the backyard, along with mine and the kids' bikes as well. We could make it a family day on the trails along the riverfronts around town.
Shavonda continued, "I can finally straighten my hair. Shaunice has offered to pay to get my hair done. I am looking forward to all the things I can do again."
Mom looked at me, "Why couldn't she get her hair done?"
"The chemicals used might have harmed the baby," I said. "This may be our only chance to have one. So, she gave up anything that might harm the baby while she was carrying. Alcohol, getting hair done, certain foods, doing certain work on her jewelry, and pumping gas. Those are all things she couldn't do."
"Speaking of your jewelry," Mom changed the subject, "Von, while we're here we'd love to see your business."
"I'll have to ask Mama if she'll sit the kids. We don't have room for everybody in the car," Shavonda grinned. She was very proud of the business she'd built from nothing. "My jewelry and art started while I was back in high school, as a hobby. When I started wearing it to class, other people wanted some too. That's when I found out I could make money doing what I loved. And when I saw what similar jewelry was going for on eBay, I knew I could make a living at it. We started out doing flea markets and craft shows. Daddy insisted I go to college, so I studied art and business administration with the intention of starting the shop when I graduated. Well, I did, and the rest is history. I've been open 9 years now, and I still love what I do."
"Can't ask for more than that," Mom said.
We called Althea, and she came over to sit with the kids. I drove the Cruze, with Grandma in the front seat, and Shavonda and Mom in the back with Miracle strapped in her car seat between them. As long as we were visiting the stores, we figured the employees would like to see the baby.
Velma and Ebony were at the Ellsworth store, and they were surprised to see us. Ebony was working the register while Velma was working on product in the back room. We gave Mom and Grandma a quick tour, including a quick demonstration on how the bracelets were made. Meanwhile, Ebony fussed over Miracle, who was in the detachable baby carrier portion of the car seat. "If you see anything you'd like, take it," Shavonda said proudly. "It's the least I can do."
Leaving Ellsworth, we headed for the Carson Street store, where Andre was making stained glass sun catchers, and Nykole was minding the register. Once again, they fawned over Miracle, who was awake and smiling. Mom commented on the framed photos for sale, and I proudly told her that most of them were taken by me. Shavonda selected a couple of pendants from the display case, and gave one to Mom and Grandma.
Mom had asked Shavonda if she had any white employees. "I have two," Shavonda replied. "Jason you already know. Beth is in college, and she's home for the holiday. We didn't intend it that way, and race doesn't matter to me. But when we hire we first put out word in the church, and so far, they've referred 3 good employees to us. As long as they have the ability to learn the job and a good attitude I am happy."
On the way back, we treated Mom and Grandma to lunch at Ritter's, a local diner that served good food. Shavonda and I were back to ordering the same things off the menu, she no longer craved liver, though we were still eating a lot of fudge ripple ice cream. We had the fried chicken with fries. While we were waiting for our food, Miracle started fussing and Shavonda took her to the bathroom to feed her. Grandma remarked how well Shavonda was doing with the baby, and that she was a beautiful mother.
When we returned home, Kenny was there with Edie. I hadn't realized it before, but they made a cute couple. Kenny was about my height, but slightly thinner than me, about 135 lbs. and 5 foot 10. He had wavy brown hair, cut just over the ears. Edie was a petite little lady, weighing maybe 110 and standing about 5 foot 2. She had beautiful round brown eyes, a cute button nose, and luscious full lips. Her hair was straight, in a short cut that looked good on her. She was a couple shades lighter than Shavonda, a medium brown tone. And though she was small, she curved in all the right places. When Kenny put his arm around her, she fit against him like they were made for each other.
We took them down to the game room and showed them our instruments. We even played a couple of songs for them, me on bass guitar while Shavonda played the synthesizer. Later, we all ran trains on my rebuilt railroad. Kenny had his own railroad back in Virginia where he lived, and Shavonda was familiar with my layout, so they had no trouble. Edie, however, had never been exposed to a working model railroad before, and had a hard time grasping some of the concepts. All in all, we had fun though.
Later, the two of them started giving each other funny looks. I knew what was up and told them they could discretely use our room to scratch that itch. It was the most secluded part of the house. About an hour later, Kenny wandered out with Edie, with a funny look on his face. Pulling me to the side, he whispered, "Now I know what Von looks like naked," with a smile on his face. It took me a minute to realize what he was talking about. We'd forgotten the nude African queen painting hanging on the wall. Due to the way the bedroom door was recessed into the room, the picture was on a wall in an alcove where it couldn't be seen from the bedroom door. That's why the rest of the family hadn't seen it when we gave the grand tour.
"That's not Von," I said. "Though it does look a lot like her."
I told Shavonda about the incident and next time she saw Kenny she said, with a straight face, "That's not me on the wall. I'm several shades darker than that." Kenny turned beet red while Edie and I howled with laughter.
That weekend, we decided to try something new. Rather than having Miracle laying around in the carrier portion of her carseat, we bought a baby sling for her. That way, she could be kept safe and snug to either one of us. We took turns wearing the baby. Miracle seemed to enjoy the close contact, and spent a lot less time fussing and more time sleeping. An added advantage was that Shavonda could discretely breastfeed Miracle in the sling, even in public. It worked out pretty well for us. I know I enjoyed walking around the house with her strapped to my chest.
Saturday afternoon, Kenny and Edie came back over, and we again played music in the game room. This time, Shavonda kept the baby strapped to her in the sling, while playing the keyboard. Kenny and Edie had found an old acoustic guitar in the attic at her Mom's house, and he played along with us. We'd been listening to music on the iPod earlier, and we decided to try and play Smashing Pumpkins' Pug. But they insisted I sing it. "I've gone and sung my heart out to you all this time," Shavonda said with a twinkle in her eye, "It's time you do the same for me. I know you don't think you can sing, but I want to hear for myself if you're that hopeless." She'd never expressed a desire to hear my voice before, knowing that I was ashamed of it. But she had a point. The song was too personal to let Kenny sing it to her.
"Kiss and kill me sweetly
