The second day of baby J’s life the nurses took her away very early in the morning for her daily bath.
I used that time to put myself together; have a warm shower, fix my hair and makeup, tidy up the room. Then I waited anxiously for the nurses to bring her back while I talked to my mother. I was trying to be cool but failing miserably.
When I heard the knocks on the door I tele transported myself to it and opened with a huge smile on my face only to be shocked by a weird scene. The bassinet had been prepared with formula bottles and I had requested to breastfeed. That made me pause and look at the baby, and my heart flipped. Her hair was weird, sticking all up, which made me observe her face only to confirm my fear; that baby was definitely not my baby J.
My mother, scatterbrained as she is, was already on top of that baby removing the spit up napkin, ready to pick her up. I took a step back and told the nurses. Their faces melted. The supervisor of the floor visited me daily because one of my in-laws worked at the hospital, they thought I was going to make a scene or something. I remained calm while they clarified the situation among themselves and went back to the nursery, taking back the wrong baby with them.
I joked with my mother that she didn’t recognised her own granddaughter, she was amazed that I sorted it out so fast, the whole thing took me all of two seconds. I told her “she’s my daughter. I would recognise her from a forty feet distance without wearing my glasses. I just feel it.”
Baby J is eight months old now and has conquered many milestones, one of them being that now she can fully express her recognition for me too. In a room full of people, she has no doubt which one is the one responsible of changing her diapers and giving her food and she’ll let everyone know that the one with the crazy hair, that’s the her one.
She knows momma.