Chapter Ten
Ellis
Every morning, weekend or weekday, summer or winter, having my routine is one of the only things that makes me feel as though I am in charge of the day. There are days when my routine is thrown out of the window, I have no input on when my body decides it will flare up, but when I can, I cling to my routine like a lifeline. This morning is no different from the rest.
When my alarm goes off each morning, I take a few minutes to stare at the ceiling and just breathe, centre myself and assess my body from bottom to top; cataloguing where hurts and what I have to do during the day. When you are chronically ill, doctors give you advice that at the time seems like a bunch of bullshit. Try getting exercise, eat well, fresh air will do you good . When they are saying it, all you want to do is throw something at them. But the worst thing about it is that they’re right. It doesn’t fix everything; nothing will ever fix it completely. But a curated medication plan and taking steps to try and feel whole really do help.
Then you get pregnant, and suddenly a lot of the work you have done to better yourself gets thrown out of the window. That carefully selected medication plan is tossed because of how much medication can harm the baby, and you’re forced to decide what to sacrifice to help your baby develop while also needing something to help you survive your day. The other stuff is easier to continue; eating well is the easiest to maintain. Jack is not a picky eater (thank god) so he’s good with pretty much anything I make.
Each morning, I make breakfast before I wake up Jack so that I can take my medications and give them enough time to start to work. One of the first things I did when those two little lines popped up – both before and now – was book an appointment with my doctor to figure out what I can still take and what I have to give up.
Despite my feelings towards it, objectively from a medical stance, it would have been a lot easier on my body to not go through with this pregnancy. One reason I did was because of Eleanor. When I was young and being ignored by her, I wanted a big family that I could love and surround myself with, the life I want to believe my dad would have wanted for me. Long before I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, I wanted a family. I still want to be able to live the life I always dreamed about, despite my limitations.
By the time I finish eating my breakfast it’s time for Jack to wake up and get ready for school. After some groans and arguments about what shoes he’s going to wear, we’re finally out the door.
Once I wave Jack goodbye, watching him disappear through the school doors, I immediately switch into business mode. Having my own business was another one of my childhood wishes, right alongside having a family. But I never expected to truly have both – or to make another family at my business.
Lyndsey has worked with me for nearly six years, and she is the sister I never had. After all this time we have developed a routine of our own. I open the shop after dropping Jack off and start getting everything ready for the day. I begin by checking deliveries that need to be made each day and taking any dead flowers off the shop floor. I spend some time answering query emails about pricing – for funerals, for weddings, for boyfriends begging forgiveness.
Lyndsey starts her shift at two p.m. when I leave to pick up Jack and works through the afternoon until we close. Liam came into the shop when he got back from Vegas and the poor girl nearly passed out from excitement. Not only is Lyndsey a huge Spears fan, she’s also a straight woman – and a man like Liam sure makes an impression.
I was in the back room at the time, and she walked to me with cheeks redder than ever. Of course I panicked at her state, until she muttered, “Your baby daddy is fine as all hell, and if you don’t go out there I might climb him like a tree.” I told Lyndsey about the baby in a moment of anxiety. The words burst out of me and I couldn’t take them back. It is probably hypocritical to ask Liam to keep it a secret when I told her but if word got out on his end it could end up in the press. Lyndsey wouldn’t tell a soul and she is pretty contained. She is single so there isn’t a partner that could slip up. She doesn’t really talk to her family much any more. If Liam told his team I don’t know how tight-lipped they would be. Would they tell their families? Their partners? It would get too big too quickly. There is so much we have left to figure out before word gets out.
Safe to say I have that memory vivid in my mind. Even though it makes me laugh, her reaction is a stark reminder of something I can’t ignore. Any woman would be lucky to have Liam, and it would be so simple for him to find the next best thing. He travels so much and there are so many women that would offer themselves to him on a silver platter. It can be hard to imagine him always coming back to little old me and our baby.
One day I might have to accept another woman helping to raise our baby. A step-parent. It wouldn’t be fair of me to stop him from dating. He will find his true love eventually, and who am I to stand in the way? Selfishly, I hope it’s far in the future. I want him by my side for now, even if it is just for the moment.
Aside from Lyndsey, there are certain regulars at the shop that make my week brighter. I like to think I have become a staple of the community, not only because of the beautiful bouquets we sell but also because of how I designed the shop. It was a must for me to make this place as accessible as possible.
The shop is set up in two aisles that are wide enough for wheelchairs to comfortably pass between and the front counter is low enough that if someone is sat down they can still see over the top. At the end of the two aisles there are small bench seats for people who might need a break, and there is always a pot of coffee brewing in the winter for anyone who needs it. Making Bloom and Blossom as comfortable as possible not only for me but for people who are often overlooked was a large passion of mine.
Flowers were one of the few things my mother and I both appreciated together. Without even trying she taught me how there is a flower for every occasion, each one with a meaning and a story to tell. Eleanor always wanted the fanciest in-season flowers she could get. But the way she spoke about flowers always stuck with me. I wanted to help people show their feelings through flowers. I get to be a tiny part of people’s everyday lives, when words aren’t enough – the flowers speak for themselves.
As February comes to a close and we get closer to spring, the flowers around me are shifting colours from the passionate reds of roses and chrysanthemums to bright tulips and hyacinths. February is both a dream and a nightmare, roses of all colours line the walls and I make bouquet after bouquet for Valentine’s. March is always a nice reprieve, a slower time filled with Easter excitement.
By the time afternoon starts to draw closer, I have made a beautiful arrangement for a birthday gift as well as met with a soon-to-be bride to discuss what flowers will be in season for her autumn nuptials. When Lyndsey walks through the door I barely feel like any time has passed.
I’m eating lunch at my desk when she saunters through the doors. “Hello,” she says cheerily.
“Afternoon,” I reply. She parks herself in the chair next to me, pulling out a tub of leftover pasta. She waves her hand at me like she is waiting for me to speak, but I have no idea what she wants from me. I’ve already told her everything: Liam and I are going to co-parent and we have spent time together getting to know each other again. That is really all there is to tell.
“Well…” Lyndsey prods.
I roll my eyes at her as a smirk spreads across my face, “I promise, if anything changes you’ll be the first to know, but it’s still business as usual.”
She scoffs in response, clearly disappointed. As her anticipation for news dulls, I fill her in on what I need her to do this afternoon. Lyndsey was built to work with the public: she has a smile that lights up a room. Her only downfall is how much she hates paperwork. I do as much of it as I can so she can shine in front of our customers. But since my bridal appointment ran over this morning there is more for her to do than usual.
“Yay, my favourite,” she says sarcastically, looking at the computer screen on my desk.
“It isn’t all bad.” I try to sweeten her up. “When Liam is ready to introduce me – and I suppose our baby – to his teammates, I’ll make sure you’re there too.” I pop some of my painkillers in my mouth as I stand up from the desk, closing the lid on my lunch. I see her try to restrain a grin. Suddenly the paperwork must seem less daunting when she can daydream about the Spears players to get her through.
Late afternoon starts to creep in by the time I’ve collected Jack and driven home. I’m still clinging to the relief of my last dose of pain meds, so I use the last moments of that relief to tidy up our home.
As I sort through the washing, Jack’s favourite time of the day approaches: screen time. I was never the person who was going to be able to parent without some kind of distraction. Now that school takes up a lot of his day, I have cut his time down to an hour before we eat dinner. Before I was pregnant I would use this time to clean up more or to read, but now I use it to try some non-medicated ways to reduce my pain. First, I attach a TENS machine to my back to reduce the pain signals in my spine in an attempt to help relax my muscles. It does what it should, but only while the machine is running. Once it powers off it doesn’t take long for the pain to come back. But even small relief is a win in my book.
Other doctors have recommended yoga to help my pain, but I’ve never been particularly bendy. I had pretty much forgotten about that suggestion until I read it can be a good way to prepare the body for the difficulties of pregnancy. I’ve tried meditation in the past, but my brain is too loud to turn off. The moment I try to centre myself it decides to run through every embarrassing thing I have ever done or conjure up new embarrassing things that could happen in the future. Not exactly the relaxing time I was promised.
I know I could try these things once Jack is tucked in bed, but since I’m cutting down my medications I won’t be taking any more until I go to bed myself. Besides, when Jack is in bed it’s my time to focus on what I need to do for the baby. I am going to have to start looking for a bigger place eventually. The baby can sleep in my room for a while, but both Jack and the new baby will want their own space soon enough. My evenings are now spent scrolling through housing listings and baby furniture sites to find everything we are going to need.
After cooking whatever is on the menu for the night, Jack and I sit and talk about our days. He tells me everything he learned and the dramas of being a five-year-old, and I tell him stories about eccentric customers who visited the shop – embellishing the stories with some magic to keep him interested.
After our debriefs, it’s his bath time. I struggled with bath time for a long while. When he was very small I used to just wash him in the sink so I didn’t have to bend over the side of the tub, but he quickly grew too big for that. I tried sitting on a stool next to the tub, but it was hard to reach him. Now that he’s five he likes to bathe himself, so I thankfully only have to supervise. I know in the back of my mind I’m going to have to find a better way to deal with it for the next baby. My daily routines are making me realise how much I have forgotten about early motherhood – it all becomes a blur after so many years, but I can feel the problems creeping back over my shoulder.
Once Jack is all clean we snuggle up together in his bed for story time, which has long been my favourite time of the day. Books are where my escape is. When I was a kid I would read constantly. Eleanor was never interested in that side of parenting or parenting at all really. Jack’s favourite book at the moment is The Little Prince . Spending this time with him is another reason I wanted to have this baby. Watching him become a gentle and strong little boy has been the highest of honours, and I want to see him love his sibling fiercely.
In bed alone, as I hear Jack softly snoring, I scroll and scroll through listing after listing, getting increasingly frustrated. I think if I have to look at one more house that I can’t afford, I might have a breakdown. I throw my laptop aside and click on the TV to the sports channel showcasing the NHL highlights.
Back in university, hockey wasn’t my thing. I wasn’t dating Liam because he was the popular, athletic guy on campus; I was dating him because he was funny, kind, charming. He was good for me. He made me feel beautiful. Sure, there were other people who had decided that I was only with him for when he made it big, but I knew the truth. Still, I have all but avoided hockey over the past decade. At first it was because it hurt to see Liam living the high life, but also because if I pretended it didn’t exist then I could try to ignore my lingering feelings.
Yet every game he has played since December is available for me to watch, and I can’t help but indulge myself. I watch him celebrate his goals and I see him hold it together after a loss. Aside from Liam, the viewing seemed like an easy way to get to know his teammates. After watching press conferences and seeing how they blend together as a team, it makes sense to me how he sees them like his family. Between Anders, Rook, and Edge – as Liam calls them all – they each share a look and the other instinctively knows where to go and what to do. Edge is an enforcer, and admittedly I had no clue what that meant until a couple weeks ago. But seeing him engage in brawls on the ice to protect the team is frightening.
I can also see how much they respect their captain, Aiden Anders. And I also understand why Lyndsey drools over him. He commands the ice as one of the biggest men on the team. His strength is a given, but there is also a mental toughness that can be felt even through the TV screen. If he asked me to lace up some skates and take to the ice, I would have trouble telling him no.
I might not know the team yet, but I know their bond. It gives me some reassurance to know Liam has them in his corner as he also navigates this strange time in his life.
As the NHL portion of the sports schedule comes to an end, I can’t help but think about doing it all again tomorrow. There are parts of my day that I love, but I know the further along I get in this pregnancy and the bigger my bump gets, the harder it’s going to be to live my life. I know I’m going to have Liam’s help, but there’s still so much distance and there are so many obstructions between us that I’m not sure how much good it will really do.
In the later stages of my pregnancy last time around I had to put the business on the back-burner because Lyndsey wasn’t ready to take over fully. This time Lyndsey will take over if – and when – the time comes that I have to step away for a few months. I count my blessings that I can afford to take time off for myself and for the baby, I know so many others aren’t given that luxury.
As I lay back in bed staring at the ceiling again, I think of the ways I could benefit from taking time away from work. I could use it to find more holistic therapies to ease my pain. I could find time for massages or acupuncture. Stepping back could also benefit mine and Liam’s relationship. We could have more time together before the baby is born – to get to grips with what co-parenting will look like. The thought raises goose bumps over my skin.
When Liam and I are alone I feel like the tension could be sliced with a knife. I see us that night, after the bar – all over each other, hot and heavy. The images make my breath quicken. I try to ground myself, placing a hand over my slowly swelling belly. There’s no relationship for Liam and I. No matter how much my hormones try to sway me.
It’s times like this, when I’m lost in my own thoughts and worries, that I wish I had a mum. A normal mum, one who wants to be there to meet her grandkids and hold my hand through this. Liam’s mum, Tracy, has called me a few times to check in. I was nervous at first – talking to my ex’s mother on the phone, while pregnant with her grandchild. But the conversations only cemented what I already thought about her; she is a lovely, supportive woman. It’s no wonder Liam has turned out to be so similar.
I only wish Eleanor could show some love the same way. I wish she could have prioritised me and our relationship over finances and luxuries. I often think about giving her a call, but last time I did it went straight to voicemail, one than was never returned. Foolishly, I have this image of her coming back into my life. Being there for me the way a mum should.
With my final dose of painkillers starting to kick in, I burrow down into my blankets. March will be a new month – hopefully one filled with new opportunities, I tell myself. Another month into my pregnancy.
Another step closer to an unpredictable future.