“At this point, it’s not about feeding her,” the nurse said. She took the baby from me and placed her in Cally’s lap, stacking pillows under the baby and helping Cally sit up. It was like I wasn’t in the room; the nurse spoke only to Cally. “You won’t produce milk tonight anyway. Only colostrum, which is, like, the thick cream at the top of the milk bottle, it kind of ‘uncorks’ the flow, that’ll come in a day or two. Maybe tonight.” The nurse helped Cally find the opening in the hospital gown, revealing the breast.

“We were going to use a bottle,” I said.

“Will you close the curtain?” the nurse asked me, ignoring my comment.

“Oh, sure.” I yanked on the curtain, pulling it shut.

The nurse positioned the baby’s face directly onto Cally’s nipple, and it looked like the poor child would suffocate. But she didn’t. She grabbed on to the breast, began to suckle, then fell off. The nurse helped reattach her.

“Should I go?” I asked. No one answered for a few seconds, and I thought about just leaving.

“You can stay,” said Cally.

“Okay.” I stood in front of the curtain and watched.

“Will you look at that?” Cally said, eyes wide like a child herself.

The baby latched on and repeatedly fell off the breast. “When she falls off, just put her back on,” said the nurse.

“It doesn’t feel like anything’s happening.”

“That’s okay,” said the nurse. “We’re learning.”

I wanted so badly to ask, What does it feel like? I held back because I’d been pestering Cally with that question all along. During the pregnancy, I’d constantly be asking questions. “How does your belly feel?” (Same, just bigger.) “What do kicks feel like?” (Kinda like stomach gurgles.) “What do labor pains feel like?” (Menstrual cramps but worse.) I was dying to know how breastfeeding felt, but I liked watching it, too. Besides, there was no good way to describe another woman’s feelings. I would have to fill in the blanks with my imagination. Fortunately, I had a very good imagination. It certainly had helped me to think of interview questions, develop story ideas, and pitch narratives to my editor. In my career, I had created a lot of what-ifs to pursue.

Finally, the nurse said, “That was a good start. We can try again later.”

“Later?” I said. “Tomorrow is our transfer ceremony. Cally won’t be nursing; we’ll be using a bottle.”

The nurse looked at me with politeness and a tinge of pity. “Breastfeeding helps the mother’s body,” she said softly. “The sucking triggers the uterus to shrink back.”