Prepared

Tony stared at the little bundle and blinked.

"So...what do I do with it?"

His sisters glared at him. "First off," Anna said angrily, "She's your daughter, not an 'it', and second, did you not read any of the new parent books I gave you nine months ago?"

"Where is the breast pump we gave you at the shower?" Fiona added, searching about the small hospital room with the barely-packed overnight duffle near the door.

"I just fed her!"

"Your breastmilk right after birth has higher levels of nutrients, you need to save all of it." Marge lectured over her glasses.

Tony sighed. "Shouldn't the nurses have mentioned that?"

"It's your responsibility, Tony. You're the caregiver now." Marge leaned back in the re-upholstered chair covered in teal-vomit fabric. She continued to knit.

Flustered, he protested, "I didn't ask for ANY of this! No one told me I could get pregnant! I grew up a normal little boy - trucks, soldiers, guns, blocks. You're the ones with the dolls and the houses, what do I do now??"

The trio of sisters exchanged judgemental glances but said nothing.

"Tony," Anna repeated. "Did you really not read any of the books I gave you?"

"Did you? Who trained you to be a goddamn baby expert?"

Marge muttered, "Years of gender-biased patriarchial society upbringing and cultural norms, which sadly resulted in your life skills consisting of 'destroy - build - destroy', it seems."

Fiona lifted up the duffel. "You packed beer? Really, Tony?"

"Hey, I've waited nine months to drink that!"

"Okay, that's enough." Anna clapped her hands and the trio of older nagging hags gathered around her, arms folded and noses tucked. "Tony's had a long day, and obviously things here will be handled by the hospital staff. We'll let him rest and come back to check on our niece tomorrow." The sisters gathered up their things, leaving gift bags on the side table along with Tony's duffle (sans beer).

Tony groaned. "Look, I...I don't know what to do here. I've got to start work in four weeks, I don't have a babysitter picked out yet or anything, and I'm still woozy from all the medication."

Marge muttered, "Sure, medicate yourself and ignore your baby's health."

Tony frowned. "Fine, just get out. I don't need your condescension and attitude."

Anna and Fiona nodded at each other and Marge rolled her eyes as they shuffled quietly out the door.

As it swung closed behind them, Tony exhaled deeply and looked up at the balloons listing along the ceiling. He felt just as deflated and out of his depth as they did.

Yet, he had done it. Whatever the old crones might think, he had seen this thing through and brought life into the world, the first for a man. They should be celebrating him instead of scoffing at his ability to support life.

A small gurgle from the incubated crib next to his bed startled him out of his thoughts. The tiny pink swaddle inside coo'd and aah'd, shaking clenched fists towards the paneled ceiling tiles. A sudden pang of concern struck Tony's chest and he propped himself up in order to peek over better and ensure nothing had gone awry with all the little tubes and monitors.

He could handle this, he thought stubbornly.

No sweat at all.

His new daughter burped, either in agreement or out of concern for her future wellbeing.