Star Side

Chapter 71

I also found myself, well, smelling them, or rather their heads, without thinking anything of it. I found each baby had their own scent and that scent, when normal and clean, soothed me more than anything. If I caught the smell of sweat, I somehow knew they were stressed or too hot and saw too it. A little rancid, they needed a bath. I didn't really realize actively what I was doing until I caught Gilrack purring as he watched me.

"What?" I'd asked, a little embarrassed. Was baby sniffing a thing?

"You're such a good mother," he'd said.

Which, well, thanks, but I'd think the jury would have more to judge on if there was more parenting to do than just feeding and cleaning.

But even when the babies were sleeping in their bundles or curled up on our chests, I felt like I was floundering in the dark, feeling out my scant memories and instincts like walls beneath my fingers. Gilrack wasn't too much help, despite having watched his own mother tend to his newly hatched siblings. He only fluttered around in a panic when they cried and purred at me in some sort of high when they weren't. From his mind waves, I got the feeling instincts were at play again and he was treating me like a female of his kind who would have been running on their instincts as well. And apparently the females of his kind were touchy after hatching, because he was wary of saying too much or telling me what to do, even though I straight up asked if he please would.

All and all, floundering aside, I swear it was the closest thing to heaven I'd ever been. I never knew just having babies could make someone feel like this. People talk about it all the time. My sister had described it to me. Even my mom would say kids give you a reason to live. But you don't truly comprehend what so much love feels like until you experience yourself. That deep seated joy and contentment, the insane beauty of your child, the wonder. And I had three!

And perhaps I am biased, but I believed my experience was deepened and made even more wonderous because I could feel their little mindwaves, like the brushing of fur. They lit up with recognition on seeing me and Gilrack. They shivered with insecurity and need, warmed with contentment, stuck with the strength of their attachment. They saw me as a part of them, something intrinsic and necessary, and the possible loss of that part equal unto death, which made sense. They couldn't survive without the food I could provide. They could do anything for themselves. But when they were reassured they wouldn't die, that they were safe, that they were whole, those furry, delicate mindwaves would wrap about my mind like their tiny fingers around mine, rich with belonging. I found holes I never knew existing filling up. They weren't the only ones who saw the other as an intrinsic part of them. These three were me.

But, perhaps, the greatest revelation I had was that, if they looked like me, if I looked even a fraction as beautiful of them, I was freaking gorgeous.

Even with how the aliens treated me—even how Gilrack had treated me—I'd never felt as pretty as when I was looking down at my babies.

They grew fast. After ten days they'd pudged up till they didn't so much have wrists or knuckles as lines in fat rolls, and it was adorable. I got more into the swing of things. They had to eat every two hours, which made sleep tricky, but when you had nothing to do but sleep, eat, and take care of babies, you found the time to catch up with said sleep. Poor Gilrack got woken up every time they so much as squeaked in their sleep, and that was when he did manage to sleep. Most of the time he felt the need to stand vigil at the front of the nest as demanded by his instincts. But it was at the tenth day that those instincts seemed to wane and his exhaustion finally seemed to catch up with him.

"You think you'd be okay letting your dad up so you can nap?" I asked.

He'd blinked at me blearily, the poor pupils of his eyes not sure what shape they were supposed to be.