Seven
seven
EVERYTHING - LIFEHOUSE
CALLIE - NOVEMBER 28, 2013
“ C allie!” Suzanne’s voice greets us as I lead Sara into the living room, Ruby wrapped in my arms. Her face lights up when she sees us. She’s always had this effortless warmth about her, the kind that makes you feel welcome even when you’re doubting your place in the world.
“Hi, Suzanne,” I say, managing a small smile.
“Oh, please,” she says, waving a hand dismissively as she steps closer, radiating warmth. “You can call me Sue. Or, you know, Mom, if you ever feel like it.” She winks playfully, and I let out a soft laugh. Her lightheartedness tugs at something deep inside me and reminds me of when I first met her. She’d come to the house in Hawkridge to visit and as she was getting ready to leave, she whispered something in Owen’s ear that made him smile. After she left, I asked Owen what she had said and I almost didn’t believe him when he said the words were, “Marry her.”
Now, as she leans down to Sara’s level, her hands resting on her knees. “Hi, sweetheart. Are you having fun?”
Sara hesitates, hiding her face against my leg, her curls framing her small face like a shield. In a voice so soft I almost don’t catch it, she whispers, “Hi, Nana.”
My breath catches, the air in the room seeming to shift as her words hang there, tender and unguarded. Did I hear that right?
Suzanne’s playful demeanor changes in an instant. Her eyes glisten and she reaches out gently taking Sara’s hand. “You remembered,” she says “I told her she could call me Nana if she wanted to. I hope that’s okay with you. It’s what all my great-nieces and nephews call me as well. I’m Nana and Serena is Nona .”
A lump rises in my throat so quickly it feels impossible to speak. I blink hard, willing myself not to cry. “Yeah,” I manage to say. “Of course, it’s okay. But I have to ask, what does everyone call Sharon and Sandra?”
“Crazy,” she deadpans and we both laugh, the emotional tension breaking from Sara calling her Nana.
Suzanne straightens slowly, her hand lingers on Sara’s for a moment longer before she looks at me. Her smile is soft, almost tentative, like she knows how fragile this moment feels. This is what I’ve always wanted for my girls: a family that makes them feel safe and cherished. I feel unmoored by the unconditional love and acceptance she offers. “Can I hold Ruby for a bit?” she asks, her voice kind.
I nod, carefully transferring Ruby into her arms. Suzanne cradles her like she’s done it a thousand times before, her touch instinctive and soothing. Ruby squirms for a moment, then settles, her tiny fingers gripping the edge of Suzanne’s blouse.
“She’s beautiful,” Suzanne whispers, her eyes fixed on Ruby’s face. “You’ve done an amazing job with them, Callie. Truly.”
Hearing those words, spoken so earnestly, something inside me cracks wide open. For so long, I’ve carried the weight of being everything for my girls—mother, protector, provider. Before Owen, I always felt like I had to shoulder it all alone. In this moment, watching Suzanne hold Ruby with such love and care, I feel that weight lift. Maybe I will have the village it takes to help me raise my girls after all.
“Thank you,” I mutter, my voice thick.
Suzanne looks up at me, her expression resolute. “I mean it. You’re an incredible mom, and we’re so lucky to have you as part of this family.”
My chest tightens, and I blink to keep the tears at bay. I’ve always dreamed of having a family like this—a big, noisy, loving group of people who make you feel like you belong. Standing here with Suzanne holding Ruby with Sara clinging to my leg, I feel like I’ve found that.
Sara tugs on my leggings, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Ruby’s sweeping now,” she says, pointing at her sister.
I nod, brushing a hand over her curls. “She is sleeping, baby. Nana’s good at that, huh?”
Suzanne chuckles, adjusting Ruby in her arms. “Years of practice.”
The moment is interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by a burst of laughter that echoes through the house. Ruby startles awake, her tiny face scrunching in confusion. Suzanne shakes her head, her irritation obvious. “Sounds like Sandra’s at it again.”
The sound of this family—chaotic and imperfect—is the kind of noise that doesn’t overwhelm. Instead, it fills the hollow spaces where loneliness and fear linger with connection and belonging.
“Come on,” Suzanne says, nodding toward the hallway. “Let’s go find a quiet spot for this little one to nap.”
“I’d like to feed her first,” I say, taking Sara’s hand before following Suzanne. I glance down at her, her wide eyes darting around the room trying to figure out how she fits into all of this. I know the feeling.
Suzanne’s presence makes me feel safe. She’s this unshakable pillar of support for her family. I’m not used to this kind of care, the kind that doesn’t come with conditions or expectations. It’s overwhelming in a healthy way. My own mother has been there for me but there’s always been a sense that I’m not doing something right in her presence. Being around Suzanne is nothing like that.
We enter the dining room, where Sharon is still folding napkins to the sound of dishes clinking and table banter. In the hallway outside the dining room, Vicki leans against the wall looking frazzled. Cameron tugs on her sleeve chattering about football as we pass. She meets my eye, lips curving into a knowing smile, unspoken acknowledgment that she understands.
“Escape mission?” she asks, nodding toward Ruby.
“Something like that,” I reply, returning her smile.
We follow Suzanne to a small guest room at the end of the hall.
“This should work,” she says, pushing the door open with her hip. The room inside is cozy, with a neatly made bed and a rocking chair tucked into the corner. “It’s quieter back here. You can feed her and lay her down for a bit if you want.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Suzanne smiles, her gaze softening as she carefully places Ruby in my arms. “Take your time, Callie. You’re doing an amazing job.”
The words hit me like a wave, and I have to blink again to keep the tears back. I sink into the rocking chair, cradling Ruby.
Suzanne crouches down to Sara’s level, her voice gentle. “How about you and I go see what the other kids are up to. You haven’t met Ainsley yet and I bet she has some dolls and would love to play with you.”
Sara glances at me, quiet and hesitant. After a moment, she nods and slips her hand into Suzanne’s. I mouth a silent thank you to the woman that has already helped me so much before they leave the room.
The sudden quiet wraps around me like a blanket. I sit there for a moment, just holding Ruby close and listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing. The chaos of the house feels far away now, replaced by this quick calm.
Ruby latches perfectly, her tiny hand resting on my chest as I stroke her soft curls. These moments—just the two of us—feel sacred, like little pockets of peace I can tuck away for when the world feels too loud. I glance down at her, marveling at the way her lashes brush her cheeks, and smile.
Breastfeeding has been much easier with Ruby than it was with Sara. I remember sleepless nights, tears of frustration, and the constant worry that I wasn’t enough for her. But Ruby? She mastered it effortlessly. It’s one of the few things that’s come easily in these past few weeks. I’m so grateful for it because I’m still struggling with sleepless nights and the constant demands of being a mom. I’m still struggling with insecurities fueled by my body not feeling like my own. I know it’s normal to feel like I’m juggling plates with two young kids, but I’m afraid this feeling of being “almost okay” will get stuck and won’t go away. I should feel happy, grateful for this life, but there’s a heaviness I can’t shake. There’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me that I’m not enough.
Even though Ruby has done well with her feedings, every night is a fussy struggle and my body doesn’t feel like my own. Some nights, I lie awake and wonder if I’m failing them. Especially the long nights like the one I had just days ago when I couldn’t settle Ruby no matter what I did. I rocked her, walked around the house with her, did everything I could think of to soothe her. I’d even reached my breaking point and woke up Owen knowing he had to work early the next morning. I asked him to keep an eye on Sara while she slept so I could take Ruby for a drive just to settle her. Instead, he took Ruby from my arms and told me to go lay down, insisting he would stay up and rock her for a bit so I didn’t have to drive around aimlessly praying for the baby to fall asleep.
The man is a saint and I am a complete disaster.
A soft knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I call quietly, adjusting Ruby to shield her face.
Owen steps inside with Suzanne right behind him.
“We thought we’d come check on you,” she says, stepping into the room. “You’ve been on mom duty all day. How about I take her for a bit?” she offers. “You should grab a plate of food and take a moment to breathe. Sara is downstairs playing with the other kids. I’ll lay Ruby down in the bedroom across the hall. Vicki found a portable crib from when Cam was a baby and set it up for you.”
Her words catch me off guard. It’s such a small gesture for Vicki to take the time to find something like that for us, but it feels monumental. We don’t even know each other that well, but now I understand why she asked me about my escape mission before I came in here. She gets it.
I blink back the sudden sting in my eyes and glance down at Ruby, my reluctance to let her go warring with the realization that I don’t have to do this alone.
“Are you sure?” I ask, unsure myself.
“Absolutely. I’d love to spend some time with her.” The certainty in her voice soothes my hesitation. I hand Ruby over, happy for the reprieve.
Suzanne closes the door behind her as Owen crouches beside me. His steady presence grounds me and we settle into the quiet around us. He looks at me, his gaze warm and full of quiet concern. “You sure you’re doing okay?” he asks.
I take a deep breath and sigh it out before I begin. “I guess I’ve just been... feeling off lately,” I admit. “I mean, I have so much to be grateful for, you, the girls, Barrett, everything but... I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m not enough.”
Owen frowns, his hand tightens around mine. “ That’s not true.”
I shake my head and scoff. “I look at myself in the mirror, and I don’t even recognize the person staring back. It’s been four weeks, and I still feel like I should’ve lost more of the baby weight by now. I just... I don’t feel like myself.”
His brow furrows, and he stands, pulling me to my feet. “Callie,” he says firmly, eye to eye, “you just brought a whole human into the world. You’ve been feeding her, caring for her, and taking care of Sara too. Do you have any idea how incredible that is?”
I look down, my cheeks burning, but he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His dark eyes are full of raw, unyielding emotion. It steals my breath.
“You’re stunning,” he says quietly. “Every part of you. Not because of what you look like, but because of who you are. The way you love our kids, the way you love me, is what makes you so damn beautiful.”
“Owen...” I whisper, my throat tight with emotion.
He leans in, his forehead resting gently against mine. “You don’t have to be perfect, Callie,” he murmurs. “You just have to be you. That’s more than enough.”
The tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, and he catches them with his thumbs, brushing them gently from my cheeks. His touch is reassuring, intimate. I reach up, curling my fingers around the front of his shirt.
“Thank you for always knowing what to say,” I whisper.
“I mean every word,” he replies, his voice rough around the edges. “You’re everything to me, Callie.”
The intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down my spine. When he kisses me, it’s soft and full of purpose. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me closer, and I melt against him. It’s been weeks since we’ve been this close, trying to navigate this new chapter of our lives. This quiet room is the first time we’ve really had to find each other again. .
“I’ve missed this,” he pulls back, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’ve missed you.”
My fingers trace the line of his jaw. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
His lips brush against mine again, slow and deliberate. I feel the familiar spark that flares to life whenever he’s close. “Trust me,” he murmurs against my lips, his hands tighten on my hips. “I know exactly how you feel.”
“Four weeks of waiting,” I say with longing. “I can’t tell you how much I wish the doctor would just clear us already. I need you.”
His laugh is low and rough, sending another shiver down my spine. “ You’re not the only one counting the days,” he replies, hands still on my waist. “But we’ll wait. I’ll wait, Callie. As long as you need.”
His words settle over me and I lean closer, drawn to him in a primal way that I haven’t felt in weeks. I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” I murmur, the words carrying more than just affection—they carry the gratitude, the trust, the vulnerability I’ve placed in him. “But you’re making patience feel impossible.”
His smile is slow. “I love you too,” he replies, “I’ll make the wait worth it.”
The way he looks at me makes me feel seen, valued, and adored for who I am. I feel breathless and allow myself to linger in the safe space he’s created for me. When we do come together again, it will be all the more meaningful.