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Kagome paced up and down, up and down, up and down, carrying her six-week old daughter, who would. Not. Stop. Crying.
She and Inuyasha had tried everything. They had burped her, they had changed her, they had tried to rock her to sleep. Kagome had offered her the breast. Multiple times. But each time, Moroha would suckle, scrunch up her eyes, then unlatch and begin to cry again. She and Inuyasha had taken turns carrying her, but finally, his ears were pressed so flat against his skull from the high-pitched screeching their daughter was currently doing that Kagome insisted he go outside and take a break. Which, relief palpable on his face, he had done. And Kagome was glad, because it meant that Inuyasha could get a break, but at the same time, she was so exhausted, and she wished that it could be her who would get the break.
Kagome had not slept regularly since...well, she couldn’t remember how long it had been. Not long after she’d realized that she was pregnant, the insomnia kicked in. And after that, the discomfort. The panic when she realized that she was sleeping on her back, and not her side (she’d learned a few things about being pregnant from weird, late-night hospital shows). And then, the congestion—and no amount of hot springs, no amount of Kaede-obaa-chan’s herbs, would get rid of Kagome’s damn stuffy nose.
And then Moroha had been born, and Kagome had thought she wasn’t sleeping before the baby? After the baby was a whole new kind of sleeplessness. She was...an anxious mother? Who often spent hours awake beside her daughter, listening to make sure she was breathing. She was so tiny, and so precious...Kagome didn’t want anything to happen to her. She only slept when Inuyasha insisted that he was the inu hanyō, and he could absolutely hear if something changed in their daughter’s breathing or heartbeat. But still, Kagome’s rest was...light, uneven, uneasy. And she was being woken up every hour or so in order to nurse. Moroha was a voracious eater, and Kagome got used to breastfeeding rather quickly, but she had been unprepared for just how many times Moroha would need to eat, and just how many times she would poop through the layers of swaddle, and onto Kagome. Eventually, Kagome would strip, herself and the baby, and Inuyasha would stand guard outside if he was home so they could feed, skin-to-skin, without worry of being interrupted.
But today was a day where none of those things were working, where none of those things were things that helped. And Kagome was rapidly approaching her wit’s end. She wished, more than anything, that she could be her husband, and just leave whenever she wanted, and come back whenever she wanted. But she was nursing, and tradition suggested that she basically needed to be home with the baby, all the time. And Kagome got it—she really, really did—but at the same time?
Being home all the time with a newborn was flipping exhausting.
Kagome had never felt more alone in her entire life.
“Come on, Moroha,” Kagome muttered, hoisting Moroha onto her shoulder and patting the baby’s bottom, “why won’t you settle down for Mama?”
Moroha’s response was to scream even louder, and right in Kagome’s ear. Kagome winced and adjusted so that Moroha was back in her arms again, and she was rocking her.
What could she do to get her baby to be quiet? Why wasn’t anything working? Was she really that bad of a mother? She thought about Sango, and those three perfect little angels she had. Why couldn’t Moroha be more like them?
“‘Gome? Are ya dressed?” Inuyasha’s voice, loud and gruff, came through the bamboo mat hanging in the doorway.
“Y—yeah,” she said tiredly, “I’m okay.”
“Good,” he said, pushing aside the mat and coming into the hut. “I brought someone to help ya.”
“Kaede-obaa-chan!” Kagome said wearily, nearly ready to weep with relief when she saw the elderly miko come into the hut. Kaede had overseen the birth of many babies in her life. Surely she would have some idea of what to do?
“Kagome,” Kaede said over Moroha’s squalling, “you look exhausted.”
“Moroha has been crying for hours, Kaede-obaa-chan,” replied Kagome. “We just don’t know what to do anymore!”
“That’s why I got the obaba,” Inuyasha said roughly. He held out his arms, and gratefully, Kagome handed Moroha over to her husband. Ears pinned back, he rocked his daughter quietly; Kagome could hear snippets of words of comfort that were coming through, and she sank down onto the futon, closing her eyes, listening to her husband’s words.
“It’s okay, pup...Mama and Papa are here...we’ll figure out what’s wrong, okay? You don’t gotta worry no one.”
Tears pricked at Kagome’s eyes. What if they didn’t figure out why she was crying? What if this was going to be their lives for the next...days? Months? Years?
Oh, gods. Kagome couldn’t handle that. AT ALL.
She felt a cool hand on her forehead, and Kagome opened her eyes. “Kaede-obaa-chan?” she asked, disbelievingly. “What are you doing?”
“Checking to make sure you’re okay, Kagome,” Kaede murmured. She had one hand on her own forehead, and one on Kagome’s. “You don’t seem to be feverish, so that’s good.” She pushed Kagome back down on the futon gently. “You need to rest, child. Let Inuyasha care for the baby for a bit.”
“No, I can’t!” Kagome exclaimed, resisting Kaede’s efforts. “What if she needs me? What if she is sick? What if…”
Kaede sighed. “Let’s check Moroha, then,” she said with a sigh. “Inuyasha, bring the baby here.”
Reluctantly, Inuyasha brought the baby over to Kagome and laid her down on the futon. Once flat on her back, Moroha screamed even louder, if that was possible.
“Kagome,” Kaede said, “hold the baby still, please.”
Kagome obeyed, and leaned forward, holding Moroha’s shoulders steady.
“Let’s see,” Kaede murmured. She checked Moroha’s temperature, her face, her throat, her limbs, then pressed gently on her tummy, and her face lit up with understanding. “I think,” Kaede added, “I think she has gas.”
“Gas?” Kagome and Inuyasha said together.
“What the fuck is ‘gas’?” Inuyasha asked.
“It’s a build up of air in the baby’s belly,” Kagome explained, relieved. She was so glad it wasn’t just her—although, what if it was from breastfeeding? What if Moroha was taking in too much air? What if they weren’t burping her properly? What if—
“Here,” Kaede said tenderly, lifting Moroha off the futon, “let me.” She sat Moroha on her knee, and held the baby gently under the chin. She rubbed Moroha’s back, then patted it softly, trying to work out the bubbles. But instead of Moroha quieting down, she started to wail even more loudly. Kaede frowned, but kept at it for several more minutes, alternating rubbing the baby’s back with patting it, trying to induce her to burp.
It wasn’t working. It wasn’t working.
Was Kaede wrong? Was it not gas? Was it something else?
Was her baby sick?
“Kaede-obaa-chan,” said Kagome, desperation seeping into her tone now, “are you sure it’s gas?” Inuyasha dropped to his wife’s side and pulled her into his arms, rocking her as Kagome’s tears started to fall.
She was tired. She was scared. She was worried.
She loved her baby, and she hated hearing Moroha in so much pain.
“Kagome-chan?” Another familiar female voice sounded outside the bamboo doormat. “Is everything okay?”
“Sango-chan!” sobbed Kagome, and Sango pushed aside the mat and came into the hut. “I saw Inuyasha and Kaede heading this way,” Sango explained, “and thought that something might be wrong.” Kagome saw Sango take in the scene: Kagome crying, Inuyasha comforting her, Kaede trying to burp Moroha. Sango nodded. “Gas?” she said to Kaede.
“Aye,” Kaede nodded. “But this child does not seem to want to burp.” She paused, and looked pointedly at Inuyasha. “Stubborn, like her father.” Inuyasha scowled as Moroha wailed.
“Here,” Sango said, dropping to Kaede’s side and holding out her arms. “Let me try? The twins had gas regularly, and I had to use...various methods...to get them to feel better.”
Kaede handed the child over. “Anything you try is better than nothing, Sango,” she told her wearily. Sango took Moroha in her arms, and laid her down on the futon again.
“This is what we used to do with the girls,” Sango said. “It pretty much always worked.” She lifted Moroha’s legs, and began to move them back and forth, back and forth, gently—like Moroha was riding a bike, Kagome thought. They watched as the baby’s face, scrunched up at first, slowly began to relax, and then, she let out a big belch, and laughed, and cooed.
Kagome and Inuyasha looked at each other; Inuyasha pressed his lips to Kagome’s forehead. “She’s okay,” he breathed. “She’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Kagome whispered, allowing his lips to rest against her for a moment. She took a deep breath, inhaling his warm, comforting scent.
Moroha was okay. Their baby was okay. They were okay.
Kagome turned to her friends. “Sango-chan, Kaede-obaa-chan,” she said, her voice exhausted and full of gratitude, “I can’t say how grateful I am for your help.”
Sango picked up Moroha and held her out to Kagome, who eagerly took her baby back and snuggled Moroha in her arms. Inuyasha’s arms went around them both, and Kagome stroked her baby’s cheek tenderly with one finger. Moroha’s hand went up and grabbed Kagome’s finger, and her heart swelled. Her golden eyes held Kagome’s, and Kagome felt Inuyasha nose her hair. Sango reached out and held her friend’s free hand.
“Kagome,” Sango said gently, “don’t you know? It takes a village to raise a baby. Separately, none of us have the knowledge to take care of every baby, but collectively, we can pretty much figure anything out.”
Kagome looked down at her child, then scanned the room: from her husband’s tender expression, to the gentle gaze of Kaede, to the sincerity in Sango’s brown eyes, and she knew.
She knew that Sango was right, but more importantly?
She knew that she wasn’t alone, and she never had to be, because she had her husband, and her friends, there to help.