My "Furst" Baby - My story for Chicken Soup for the Soul
- Becca Fischer
- Feb 2
- 5 min read
"You know, Vikings would give their new brides a kitten to see if they would be good mothers," I teased my then-boyfriend and he laughed. As a hobby, Derek does Viking reenactments. We both knew that was just a myth perpetuated on the internet, but it still fit the scenario we found ourselves in. We were on our way home from the movies with my family on Father’s Day in 2017 and had unexpectedly become parents to our “furst” baby - an abandoned newborn kitten.
My younger sister found it at work and waited to see if the mother would return (she did not). She couldn’t keep it because she was too busy with college, so she brought it with her to see if our older sister could take it. But my older sister had just had a baby, so her husband put the kibosh on them having a newborn kitten, as well.
I looked at Derek. Our eyes met, and he nodded. "We can take it," I said.
Relieved, my sister handed me the cardboard box. I cradled it in my arms and peered inside. A tiny gray tabby with a white face and paws mewed and crawled blindly on a pink blanket.
"I don't know if it's a boy or girl, but I named it Oliver," my sister explained as she gave us the kitten bottle, nipples, and formula.
The next day, we took the kitten to the vet and confirmed our new wriggling ball of fur was a boy - Oliver was an Oliver, after all.
The next few weeks were exhausting but also exhilarating. We prepared the formula and fed him every few hours, all through the night. We wiped his bottom to make him go to the bathroom, like a mother cat would. Since we didn't have a heating pad, we filled an old plastic bottle with hot water and put it under the blanket in the box to keep him warm.
As tired as we were, there was so much joy, too. Little things felt like a triumph.
"His eyes are starting to open!"
"Look, he's taking his first steps!"
"Do you think he's ready to transition to solid food?"
He never seemed to get full. Even though I fed him the specified amounts, it was never enough. He would mew and claw at the bottle for more.
The months went by in a flash. The next thing I knew, the soft tiny kitten that once fit in the palm of my hand had grown into a giant fluffy adult cat that covered my entire chest when he snuggled on my lap.
He was a jealous kitty. He did not like sharing me with my other cat, JB, and often batted Derek away if he and I were snuggling together. He was 100-percent a mama's boy.
Even if it’s just an online myth, Derek must have been impressed with my kitten-raising skills because a couple of years later, my Viking asked me to be his wife. The next thing we knew, we bought our first house together and found out I was pregnant.
As my tummy grew, I would look down at Oliver on my slowly disappearing lap. Did he feel her little kicks? Could he smell her? Did he understand what was happening, or did he just sense a change was coming but didn't know what it was?
On my last day of work before maternity leave, I was lying in bed, slowly waking up. Derek had just left for work himself. Oliver hopped up on the bed for his morning snuggles, something we did every day. I was reaching down to give him a pat when I felt a small pop! And then a gush of wetness in my pants.
"Oh no, no, no" I stammered, clumsily rolling out of bed, more fluid trickling out as I did. Oliver watched me, confused. I felt a flicker of guilt; how could I make him understand why I pushed him away so suddenly?
Unfortunately, there wasn’t time. I called Derek. Luckily, he wasn't too far yet. While I waited for him to drive back, I called labor and delivery and let them know we were coming in.
We rushed to the hospital, and almost exactly 10 hours after my water broke, our baby girl, Zee, was born.
In between the surreal moments of holding my daughter for the first time and realizing that I was finally a mother, I thought of my first baby, Oliver. Was he okay? Was he wondering why I left in such a hurry and where I was now? Would he be jealous of the baby?
We made sure to introduce the cats to her slowly. In between trips to the hospital and home, Derek left a baby blanket on the couch for the cats to smell. When we brought her home, the other two didn't seem too interested, but Oliver was quite curious. He took deep, long sniffs and looked very intently at her. Who was this pink wiggling thing?
Breastfeeding was draining, both literally and figuratively. Zee proved to be just as a voracious eater as Oliver was. I was told that "cluster feeding" was normal and should only last a day or two. Not Zee. She ate every hour, on the hour, for months. And if I set her down to do dishes, go to the bathroom, or, heaven forbid, eat food myself, she would cry.
As I carried her around the house, exhausted, trying to comfort her, Oliver would follow me around, curiously looking at me and Zee. I felt a prick of guilt that I barely spent any time with him, but Zee was so time-consuming in those early weeks.
Again, though, there were triumphs amongst the exhaustion.
"Look at her lift her head, she's so strong!"
"Quick, she's rolling over!"
"She just smiled, like a real smile!"
One day months later, I put her in the bouncer in the living room to make myself some tea. I stepped around the corner to the kitchen, and within moments, Zee was squeaking.
"What’re you squeakin' about now, Squeaker?" I said as I turned back into the living room and then stopped mid-step.
Oliver was sitting before Zee with his head bowed, and she was gleefully kicking her chubby baby legs, her little bare feet patting him on the head. He rubbed his chin on her toes, and she squealed in delight. I intervened when she grabbed hold of his fluffy fur, but he patiently waited for me to untangle him. No bapping, scratching, or hissing whatsoever. Just pure, gentle love.
He's been her little buddy ever since. Always sits next to her and lets her give him pat-pats. Checks on her when she's in the playpen or high chair. He was right beside her as she learned to crawl, almost as if he was trying to show her how to do it. When he sees her coming down the hall, he heads her way, big fluffy tail straight up in the air, purring away.
They have such a special bond now, and it warms my heart to watch them together, knowing my first baby loves my first baby.
***
I submitted this story to Chicken Soup for the Soul last September. Since it has been almost a year, I'm going to assume that they didn't select it, as they don't send out rejection letters. No answer is your answer.
Based on some feedback I got from other writers, it probably didn't quite fit what they were looking for, which is fine. I like it the way it is and think it's a cute story. I don't want to change it. Since it's cute and a fun memory for me, I decided it doesn't need to stay hidden in a folder on my drive.
Read and enjoy.
***
UPDATE 02/02/2025:
I just got an email from Chicken Soup for the Soul saying this story has passed the first phase and is being considered for their upcoming release! So it may not be rejected after all. Stay tuned!
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