It was a curious morning. Stella was happy as could be. She wanted to eat and took right to the bottle. She started with such gusto! Then, would barely suck at all, doing the short, unenthusiastic sucks we referred to as “fake nursing” back in Stella’s breastfeeding days. It made no sense.

During her evening feeding, my arm was killing me from holding her for so long. And I’d had it! She was barely eating anything, and I had no idea why. Emotionally and physically drained, I stopped the feeding, handed Stella to Cody and went to walk (and cry) in the snow. I just had to get away.

I called my friend Kari, who is always such a comfort. It didn’t take long before I was a bit calmer, and a lot colder! So I headed home, expecting to see Cody sitting by Stella, running the pump to give her the bulk of her feeding through the tube.

I walked in to see Stella resting peacefully in Cody’s arms, finishing off a bottle. Framed by the kitchen doorway, it was a scene that melted my heart. I cried again, of course, but this time from relief, gratitude and sheer, unabated happiness. Later, he gave her the last bottle of the day, and she finished it as well.

It turns out that the nipple was clogged. Cody, using that handy engineer brain of his, figured it out. Puzzled by her behavior, he stopped feeding her and shook the bottle. Nothing came out. He replaced the nipple with a new, clean one, and tried again, and she drank it down. Honestly, I never would’ve figured that out. I couldn’t distance myself enough to think through it clearly. Plus, as they say in Boston, Cody’s “wicked smaht.”

So, Daddy is a hero tonight. Stella, too! I’m in awe of both of them, and feeling extraordinarily lucky.