Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Kane had been eating with one hand, scribbling in his notebook with the other.
Essentially, it was the baby realizing that they were out of the mother’s womb and in the big, loud, cold and intimidating world. The first night they were, apparently, exhausted from the journey through the birth canal—not Mabel, though—and same with the following day.
Mabel had been slumbering peacefully in Maisie’s arms as she explained it, my sister standing and rocking like an expert, sure of each one of her movements, of the way she held her.
I hadn’t seen my sister in this light before. Hadn’t allowed myself too. In my mind, she was the young mother, the free spirit who I struggled to connect to.
I’d brushed off whatever ‘alternative’ knowledge she’d muttered about, barely listening. I hadn’t taken her seriously.
That was my mistake and cross to bear. Same with my mother.
Two women I’d shut out of my life who came running without resentment or blame when I needed them.
I’d ruminated over that the entire second night because I was awake for every moment of it.
Mabel seemed to be glued to my boob. Every time she fell asleep there and I’d thought it was safe to put her in the bedside bassinet—I hadn’t ever decided on one; Kane had taken all of my meticulously constructed spreadsheets and made decisions on all the remaining baby items in about fifteen minutes—her eyes popped open, and she wailed until I put her back on my boob.
My body was still riding on adrenaline. I knew logically that I was exhausted, but I didn’t feel it.
At first, Kane stayed up with me, rubbing my back, getting up to change Mabel when it was clear she needed it, thumbing through his notebook plus the baby books on his side of the table in search of things he could do to help.
“Go to sleep,” I whispered to him as I watched the fatigue roll over him in waves, his bloodshot eyes drooping.
Those drooping eyes widened. “Absolutely fucking not,” he whispered, looking at me and placing his large hand on Mabel’s tiny head. The head that had come out of my vagina. Still insane to think about. But not that insane considering the aforementioned vagina was throbbing with pain to communicate that yes, a head the size of a small basketball had come out of there.
“You need sleep,” I told him.
“So do you,” he countered. “You sleep, I’ll stay up to watch over you.”
A sweet offer. A genuine one. Despite his lethargy, he would stay up to watch us so I could get rest.
“I can’t,” I told him truthfully, nodding down to my breast. “This isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, and I’m wired. My body is producing hormones in order for me to deal with this. Yours isn’t. You need sleep.”
His brows furrowed. “You need help.”
I shook my head. “You can’t help me; your nipples are useless. Therefore, sleep. There is no point in both of us being exhausted. This parenting thing is a marathon, not a sprint. You need your energy.” I held my finger up to pause him, holding my breast as Mabel moved slightly.
We were both silent, watching her in the low glow of the nightlight I’d bought that doubled as a sound machine.
I’d learned that white noise replicated the sound of the womb. For me, it just grated against my senses.
Mabel settled back down after ten seconds. I counted.
“No arguing,” I whispered to Kane. “Sleep.”
He considered me, us. “Goes against all my better instincts to sleep while my woman is up with my baby.”
“Well, for once, go toward your bad instincts, and sleep.”
He shot me another troubled stare before he leaned in to kiss the side of my mouth. “Yes, Chef.”
My body warmed at the endearment, taking me back to who I was, who we were, for a moment.
He kissed Mabel’s head, curled up beside us, and was asleep within seconds.
It was a credit to how much he’d obviously been fighting against it.
I watched the two of them, my man and my baby sleeping peacefully, going over the past forty-eight hours in my head. The labor felt visceral yet blurry all at the same time. I stared at my phone, watching the time go by while forcing my eyes to stay open. Dawn. If I made it to dawn, then I had made it through the night. Then it would be morning. My mom would be up and Maisie would be there; there would be mothers to help.
Because me… I wasn’t a mother. I didn’t know what I was doing. This poor baby was trying desperately to drink from me, yet there was nothing there. I couldn’t do anything but hold her to my breast and watch the sun start to kiss the horizon.
Kane awoke with a start just after six. He jolted up, his hair askew, eyes wide. “What do you need?”