Dante could see at least a dozen sitting in rocking chairs with a newborn baby, an actual newborn baby, in their arms. They were clearly breast feeding the babies. They were wet nurses! Another piece of conversation floated into Dante’s cerebral cortex.
I THINK THE STUFF THEY GIVE TO US IN THE BOTTLES IS CUT WITH SOMETHING.
If the cut milk made someone think like a baby for a little while, and these babies were drinking straight from the tap, then these kids were in no danger of ever growing up.
“Get a better look around, you’ll want to see this.” Lysa instructed
Dante started to squirm in the stroller. Not violently so, just enough to get his Judy’s attention. When she looked over at him, he held his arms out and in his most babyish tone, said “UP! UP!”
“Ok, hold on, little guy,” the Judy said as she circled around and unstrapped Dante from the stroller. With a little cajoling, she managed to carry Dante on her hip and still keep Midori on her back. Midori had apparently been tuckered out by the trip and was snoozing in the baby-carrier. Even with two babified teenagers on her person, she didn’t look any more awkward than a mother of twins might.
From up on the Judy’s hip, Dante noticed two more things. The ratio of Judy to infant here was much lower. They were crawling all over the place. It reminded him of a very quiet and peaceful ant colony. Within seconds of a newborn crying, a Judy would be attending to their every need, such as it were. Newborns didn’t need that much in terms of variety.
The Judy’s were constantly, breastfeeding, burping, changing, and rocking the newborns to sleep. Never complaining, never tiring, never running out of milk.
The other thing Dante realized was that there were far actual babies here than outside. Dante had estimated that for every one actual baby out in the nurseries play areas, there had been ten people who were old enough to at least be potty trained and in school. Here it was the reverse: For every twenty newborns, there might be one non-newborn wrapped in swaddling clothing.
“Here we are,” announced their Judy in a chipper tone as they came to a stop. “Dante, we’re here to see Lysa’s baby sister, so I’m going to have to put you back in the stroller, okay?” Dante nodded, as if he had a choice. He wasn’t bothered, he figured he had seen what Lysa had wanted him to see anyways. The Judy lowered Dante back down into the stroller, and strapped him again.
Lysa was studying Dante, seeing if he had picked up on what she had wanted him to. He nodded that he had. This place had a completely different feel to it. Very serene. Very quiet. Kind of boring.
They were positioned right in front of a regular sized newborn cot. A clipboard on it said: “Caroline Strata. Arrived October 17, 1954 2:36 AM EST” In it sat a baby girl, so young and tiny you could only guess she was a girl by the pink swaddling clothes she was wrapped in. (What? Newborns all look the same at that age?) Her hair, if she had any wisps, was covered by a pink wool cap.
“Excuse me,” the Judy in the nursery scrubs asked a passing wet nurse, “Lysa is here for a little visit with Caroline. Would you mind if we used a rocking chair for a little while?” The wet nurse smiled politely, and led them over to an empty one. Apparently the wet nurse versions of Judy weren’t very talkative.
Their Judy handed off Midori and the baby carrier to a wet nurse. The wet nurse smiled, but looked clearly uncomfortable, (not physically mind you), holding the older baby. Then she unbuckled Lysa, and picked her up before sitting in the rocking chair and taking Lysa into her lap.
“Now remember, Lysa,” the Judy instructed, “Caroline is just a little baby. You’re a big girl compared to her, so we have to be gentle. You just sit here, and they’ll bring Caroline to you. Just let her sit in your lap and hold her head while I rock us back and forth a little bit, okie dokie?” Lysa nodded and rolled her eyes, having likely heard this for the millionth time.