61. Pieces of Wisdom

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"What's ACTH, Iris?"

Iris makes a cute noise, something between a whimper and a sigh, and presses her nose to my neck.

"Adrenocorticotropic hormone," I whisper, rubbing small circles on her back as I look at my notes.

I have a quiz in the morning. It's hard to tell if I'm ready, but I did my best studying. Nights are nice and quiet for that. Iris thinks so, too, because she loves sleeping on me while I go through my flashcards or read the textbook. 

It's been four months since her birth, and we're doing okay. Still clueless, but our daughter is alright, and that's all that matters.

Jim picks her up when we go to classes and brings her back when we're home. When he has kids, he'll be way more prepared than I was because he sometimes stuns me with pieces of parenting wisdom he read somewhere. He also spoils Iris, who always returns home with a new something, but it's useless to tell him not to buy her stuff. Knowing my brother, he'll do what he wants anyway. 

An hour later, my eyelids are so heavy I can't keep my eyes open. I turn off the lamp and carry Iris to the crib. Once she's comfortable, I get under the duvet in our bed and hug Kitten as I drift off to sleep.

The alarm beeps too soon the way it always does.

"Leah," I mumble into the pillow.

All I hear is a sneeze, followed by a cough and a groan.

I rub my face with my palms and sit in bed.
"Babe, you okay?"

"No," Kitten moans. "I have a sore throat and—"

She coughs again. I touch her forehead and frown. "You have a fever. Stay at home. Jim will be here soon, so get some rest."

Leah starts to say something, but my phone rings.

When my brother's face appears on the screen, I answer and hear a cough on the other end of the line.

"Little fucker," Jim says, "we're fucked. Ava and I have a fever. I swear we were okay last night. I would've told you sooner."

"Leah is sick too," I say. "Don't worry, Jim. We'll figure something out."

I hang up and scratch my head. I have to be on campus in an hour. My parents are far. Annie has classes, and Mac went to our hometown to check on the gym. 

"I'll call my mom," Leah says. "I think she works afternoons this week."

Except Grace is sick, too.

"I'll take Iris with me," I say. "We don't want her to catch the same virus you have, and you need to rest."

Leah sneezes and falls back on the bed, pressing her forearm to her eyes. "But will you manage?"

"I manage every day, babe. Pump some milk while I get her ready."

Iris is already awake. She stares at me as if I'm the most fascinating thing she's seen, and I secretly hope it'll always be this way.

I rummage in the dresser and pull out a pink onesie together with the pants and socks. After changing her diaper, I dash to the bathroom and take the fastest shower in the history of showers. My hair is damp when I leave the apartment with Iris in my arms and an overstuffed diaper bag over my shoulder. Piece of parenting wisdom number one — babies need lots of stuff. 

I buckle her in her car seat and get behind the wheel of the car my brother gave me. Jim said it was a birthday present for Iris, and I couldn't say no to a gift for my kid. I was going to buy one anyway since Iris is too small for the bike, but Jim beat me to it.

Thirty minutes later, we're on campus. I park, get my daughter and her things, and rush to the Science Building.

Piece of parenting wisdom number two — babies and punctuality are mutually exclusive. Dr. Creighton has already started the lecture, a.k.a. the quiz. I lower myself into the chair next to Bast, ignoring the gasps around me. You'd think my classmates have seen lots of babies, but all they do is stare and murmur. I tell myself that's because Iris is adorable.

"Cute." Bast grins, touching her tiny arm. We fall quiet when our quiz papers are in front of us.

Apart from being cute, Iris has a low tolerance for hunger like the O'Brien she is. Five minutes later, her hungry cry pierces the air of the lecture hall.

"Sorry." I raise my hand. "Can you excuse me for a couple of minutes? I need to heat the milk for my daughter."

Doctor Creighton nods, and I rush to the cafeteria to ask them to put the bottle in the microwave. When I'm back with the milk, I feed Iris and try to write my answers at the same time.

"Need help?" Bast whispers. 

I shake my head. "I'm good."

Piece of parenting wisdom number three — when the food is gone, babies need to be burped.

I put a burp cloth on my shoulder, put Iris over it, and pat her back, glancing at my watch.

I need to hurry. Even though the quiz is way easier than I expected, I have too many blank spaces left to fill.

Everyone in the room is focused. The silence is absolute until a belch breaks it.

Several "aws" come from the girls, and they giggle, looking at my daughter.

"Always seeking attention, O'Brien. Some people need to focus."

Some things never change. Chad's stupidity is one of them. It's his second year, but he didn't learn shit.

Bast can hold the baby if I need to punch the dude, but Chad probably doesn't know that.

"And some people need to burp," I say. "Did you skip your childhood, genius? I bet your mom made you burp after you ate."

"She didn't take me to class to disturb others."

"I apologize." I look at Dr. Creighton. "I'd rather not expose Iris to so many people here, but it's worse at home. Her mom is sick, and so are those who help us take care of the baby."

"It's okay," Dr. Creighton says, smiling, and I turn to Chad.

"You might know having gas is painful for the baby, you judgemental, insensitive asshole. And if you don't understand how digestion works, you might be in the wrong class."

I stunned everyone, judging by the quiet and Chad's scowl.

"You go, Dad." Bast chuckles under his breath. "Give me the baby. I'm done with my quiz."

Reluctantly, I hand Iris to him and speed-mark the answers. I'll need to change Iris's diaper before the following lecture and hope she sleeps through it and doesn't cry much.

Piece of parenting wisdom number four — things are hardly ever easy. 

But nothing worthy ever is.

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