Oogy_ The Dog Only a Family Could Love - Larry Levin [18]
“Can you show me how to use that?” I asked.
“Of course.” She knelt next to the car seat. She turned it over and showed me where the car’s seat belt slid through the bottom of the carrier assembly to hold it in place on the seat. Next, she demonstrated how the carrier locked into place on its base when the lever was pushed down and how it disengaged when the handle was flipped back. The handle that locked the seat into place in the car was used to carry the child when the seat was disengaged. She cautioned me that the carriers were to be placed on the rear seat facing toward the back of the car. Then she turned the carrier around and started explaining to me how to place the child in and restrain him. But nothing she said seemed to take.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I’m having a hard time following how this works. Can you show me?” I reached around her and picked up a stuffed animal, a little gray-and-white elephant. I handed the elephant to her to use as a visual demonstration. I needed to see what I needed to do.
“Okay,” she said. “First you open the harness like this.” She pressed the center button on the buckle, which released the shoulder straps. The buckle itself was on a strap located on the bottom of the seat. “Then you place your baby in the seat like this.” She looked up at me to see if I was watching her, then turned her face downward again to concentrate on what she was doing. She put the elephant in the car seat and pulled the buckle up to its chest from between its legs. “You move his little trunk out of the way like so, then slide the clasp back into place.” She lifted the elephant’s short trunk and pushed the clasp for the shoulder straps into the buckle until it clicked into place. She looked up again with a smile.
“Voilà,” she said, raising both hands in a gesture of triumph.
I bought the elephant, too. It was the boys’ first toy. They still have it. I hope that they always will.
We also bought two cribs with mattresses, four sets of sheets, four blankets, and four pillowcases. We purchased several boxes of formula, bottles and bottle liners, clothes, and some more toys. Jennifer ordered a dresser that would be delivered in a couple of days. We bought wipes, diapers, and talcum powder, just enough of what we needed to get started and until we could figure out where it was cheapest to get more. We managed to fit all of this into the trunk of the car. Then we made the twenty-minute drive to Cherry Hill.
We entered the building where the Golden Cradle offices were located and took the elevator to the agency’s suite. Because this was the first set of twins at Golden Cradle in five years, the entire staff had gathered in celebration. Everyone accompanied us into the conference room, offered their heartfelt congratulations, and then left us there, closing the door. Alone together, Jennifer and I clasped hands. We were about to experience one of those moments in life for which there can be no dress rehearsal. We stood staring at the door that had just been closed behind us. What was behind door number one?
There was a soft knock and the door opened. Shelly, a social worker who assisted with birth parents and who had flown out to meet and return with the boys and their mother, came in with the babies, one cradled in each arm. The boys were wrapped in white blankets festooned with yellow stars. Shelly was grinning from ear to ear; just about five feet tall, with red hair, she reminded me of a leprechaun.
“Here,” she said. She handed one of the boys to Jennifer. “One for you,” she said, and turned, handed me the other boy, and said, “and one for you.”
Then she left, closing the door softly behind her, and the staff left the four of us alone for twenty minutes.
I had never before held a newborn child. He was sleeping. It felt as if I were holding a pillow.
The first thing I said to Jennifer was, “Oh, my goodness.”
The boy I was holding had a tiny, wrinkled red face that was