Chapter 51
Abby
Ten Months
Just when I think I’m getting the hang of things, days like today happen.
Everything that could possibly go wrong did, and then some. I knew we were in for a doozy of a day when she woke up screaming instead of her usual smiling and giggling. It was only downhill from there.
I got absolutely nothing done today–Little One simply refused to be anywhere but my arms all day long. Any attempts at nap time were a complete joke. No amount of playing, singing, or begging made one bit of difference.
By the time Jack got home in the evening, both of us were a complete mess. He walked into the kitchen at the exact moment when she decided that her sweet potatoes belonged anywhere but her mouth–whether that be her shirt, mine, or the floor.
Spoiler alert, it was all three.
“Whoa there,” he cried, stopping in his tracks. “Looks like someone had a hell of a day.”
“Nothing gets by you, Sherlock,” I snapped, snatching the plate off the floor and shoving it angrily into the dishwasher.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said soothingly, gently gripping my shoulders. “Let me take care of that. Go take a breather, get cleaned up, scream into a pillow, whatever you need. I’ll finish up dinner.”
“Good fucking luck,” I snarled, wrenching out of his grip. “If I’m out of her sight for more than two seconds she starts screaming. It’s been like this all day.”
“It’s fine, I can handle it,” he said kindly, but firm. “We’ll be okay for five minutes.”
But here I am, standing in my closet trying to find something clean, but still comfortable, while my darling little terror wails at top volume down the hall.
Walking back into the kitchen, I find Jack standing wide-eyed, Erin stretched out rigidly in his arms while he desperately attempts to calm her down.
The second she notices I’m back, her volume increases (something I did not think was possible), and tries to throw herself out of his hold.
I rush over before she hurts herself, scooping her up and wearily patting her on the back as she cries into the crook of my neck.
“Has this been all day?” he asks quietly, mimicking my movements and rubbing circles on my back.
“Yes, it has,” I say through gritted teeth. “Life with a baby isn’t just sunshine and rainbows and giggles, Jack.”
“I know that,” he says patiently, which just infuriates me even more. “I've been here. I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard day.”
“Oh perfect, your sympathy has magically erased the emotional torment of the last ten hours,” I say sarcastically. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
I turn around, stalking down the hall to the nursery with Erin still crying relentlessly. I plop down in the rocking chair, violently ripping open my nursing bra and begging her to breastfeed.
“Please, baby girl,” I whine. “Please eat. Please relax. Please sleep. Please, please, please.”
Jack hovers in the doorway, looking helplessly concerned. The sight makes me want to rip my hair out.
“There’s nothing you can do, okay?” I say harshly. “Can you just go? Eat dinner, take a shower, whatever, just please leave us alone.”
To my annoyance, he doesn’t look angry or hurt. My outburst did not have the petty, emotional impact I was hoping for. Instead he just says “okay” in a neutral tone, and closes the door to the nursery before walking away.
After nearly two hours, Little One has finally cried herself out, sleeping peacefully in my arms like today was just another normal day. I’m terrified to set her down, worried that the second she notices my absence the vicious cycle will start all over again.
Every awful thought I fight so hard to keep at bay takes advantage of the newfound silence.
You aren’t cut out for this.
I told you you’d be a terrible mother.
This is never going to get easier.
You can’t do this.
Only this time, another vicious one joins the chorus.
Jack thinks he wants this now, but he won't forever.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or my fragile emotions.
I don't think I really believe it. But this won’t be the last day this happens.
And when she gets older, there will be unlimited new versions of terrible days.
It’s a lot to ask of anyone, let alone someone who wasn’t even involved in the decision to have a child.
As much as he may think he wants this, as much as he might love us both–he has no obligation to do any of this.
No matter how much time he spends with us, that will always be true.
There’s nothing to stop him from deciding that this is too much and walking away, and that will always be in the back of my mind.
He has no obligation to stay. And I can’t ask him to.
Maybe love isn't enough.
When it finally feels safe, I lay her down in her crib and exit the room as quickly and quietly as possible. I stand in the hallway for several long minutes, just knowing that the crying will start up again any minute.
When it doesn’t, my shoulders sag with relief before immediately tensing up again with guilt. What kind of mother is relieved to have a break from her child?
Overwhelmed with the sense that I’m going to be in a million lose-lose situations before my life is over, I walk defeatedly into my bedroom, sitting on the edge of my bed and dropping my head into my hands.
I feel him before I see him. Lifting my head, I come face to face with those impossibly patient gray eyes, and the man they belong to, kneeling in front of me.
“Jack, I can’t do this,” I whisper.
“Hey,” he says softly. “I know it might feel like it today, but it’s not true. You did do it. You survived today. You’re the best mom in the world, and she is so lucky to have you. One hard day doesn’t change that.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t do this.”
I gesture between the two of us, my chest tightening with every passing second. “We can’t do this.”
“Why is that?” he says, frowning slightly.
My head droops down again, tears welling in my eyes.
“Because this isn’t your job. You didn’t sign up for this.
I mean, look at today. It was miserable, and awful, and I’ve been nothing but mean to you since the second you walked through the door tonight.
It’s all I can do to simply survive some days, I don’t think I have bandwidth for anything else.
You deserve more than that. I know you care for us, but I can’t ask you to do this. ”
“You’re not asking,” he murmurs, running his hands comfortingly up and down my thighs. “I’m offering. And I’ll keep offering, for as long as you want.”
“This is about what you want,” I argue. “You can’t possibly want to give your life up for your dead best friend’s widow and baby. What about a love of your own? A child of your own? Surely you’ve dreamed of that.”
“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he says slowly, lifting my chin with his forefinger. “You're not just 'my dead best friend's widow.' You are my best friend. And I want this. All of it. The good days, and the hard ones. Forever.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he presses a finger to my lips.
“I’m not done. You ask if I want a love of my own, a child of my own.” He scoffs, shaking his head like he’s never heard something so ridiculous.
“Erin might not be mine, but I’m hers. And I’m yours, pretty girl.
Don’t you get that?” He takes my hand, moving it from my face to his and placing a gentle kiss on the inside of my wrist. “I never had a dream life planned out for myself. But this?” He kisses my cheek.
“Us?” He brushes his mouth over my other cheek.
“That baby girl in there?” A soft kiss on the tip of my nose. “That’s a dream come true.”
A small sob breaks through when his lips touch mine.
“You’re right, this isn’t my job,” he says, wiping my tears away. “It’s the honor of a lifetime. You aren’t asking me to do anything, I’m choosing to. And I will choose this, I will choose you, every single day for as long as you’ll let me.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I sob, and he moves next to me on the bed, wrapping me up and holding me tight.
“You deserve everything, pretty girl,” he murmurs against my hair. “Everything and more. I’m going to do my best to give it to you.”
He slides an arm under my knees and lifts me up, settling us both onto the bed and pulling the duvet up over us as I cling to him like my life depends on it. And maybe it does.
“I love you, Abby,” he says, holding me as tightly as I’m holding him.
“For as long as I want?” I ask in a small voice. I can feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles quietly.
“For as long as you want. And I hope it’s forever.”
“I do, too,” I say, tilting my head up to kiss him. “I love you, Jack Robb. And don’t you forget it.”
His mouth curves into a smile even as it's pressed against mine. I burrow my head into his chest, and he tells me over and over how much he loves me. It’s the sweetest lullaby I’ve ever heard.
As I drift off to sleep, new thoughts take root in my mind.
You don’t have to do this on your own.
You are a good mom.
For every hard day, there will be a thousand beautiful ones.
You love a wonderful man, and he loves you right back.