Chapter Thirty-Four
Ellis
High pitched wailing wakes me, just like it has every few hours in the nights recently. My precious daughter has lungs bigger than any other baby ever: I’m thinking about contacting Guinness World Records. I think the rest of the mums of the world should give me my props for the beautifully shrill sound she makes.
Jack loves his sister, adores her. He has asked Liam to buy him earplugs for sleep. Today starts with more than just crying though, today starts with pain. To be fair, every morning after her birth was painful because, you know, birthing is painful and recovering is just as bad.
I have been anticipating this flare-up for days, I think we all have. Lack of sleep is cripplingly me in more ways than one, and being uncomfortable in every position, standing, sitting, laying down… nothing works. The worst part is: there is nothing I could have done to stop it.
Two days ago, my wrists were swollen. My grip was terrible and it was my first telltale sign that something was coming. The only saving grace is that I’ve been back on my meds since giving birth. While at the hospital, a nurse on the maternity ward was laying on the pressure to breastfeed very thick – but Liam put a stop to that. My body had sacrificed so much already during the last nine months – my ability to breathe properly, be intimate when I wished, take my medication, regulate my emotions, see my toes over my belly… Liam also thought it was time I had control over my body back.
He told her straight that I had given up my comfort without a single complaint and now I needed to do this for me. I think it’s the most I’ve ever loved him. He looked hot as hell holding our baby while advocating for me.
The last time I had a new born, my mental health was so down in the gutter that there was no way I could have battled through my fibromyalgia to breastfeed while I was already trying to grip onto my sanity. Jack turned out amazing, and I am sure Charlotte will too. I reminded myself that fed is best, no matter how they get there.
Charlotte continues to cry so I know I need to push through until I can eat to take some painkillers. As a teen I knew I wanted kids but I was so worried that any child I had would have a lesser quality of life because there are things I can’t do. But as I grew up, I thought about all the other mothers with different disabilities and decided that if they can do it, I can too. I didn’t want to miss an experience just because of my condition; my fibromyalgia had already robbed me of so much, but I wasn’t going to let it rob me of this too. Taking as deep of a breath as my body will allow, I push myself over to the edge of the bed.
Liam had to leave early for his morning skate, and I know my phone will be filled with texts asking how we are. I reach out to find my phone obstructed. I manage to squint my eyes open to see my amazing, beautiful boyfriend – partner, co-parent? I don’t know what to call him; we seem too mature for boyfriend, partner is too formal, and co-parent doesn’t really fit us any more, but regardless of our label, the angel has left me a banana, a bottle of water and my Aleve. It takes me less than ten seconds to scoff down the food and down the pills and drink as I prepare myself to get out of bed.
Parenting as someone with chronic pain is different than normal parenting. There are challenges upon challenges that the world doesn’t try to fix.
Finding a disability-friendly crib is hard, and some that would be helpful are banned in the US. In other countries there are cribs that open with a latch on the side so I could get to Charlotte without having to bend over, but unfortunately that isn’t approved in the USA.
Instead, Liam and I looked high and low until we found a crib that lifts on hydraulics called a PediaLift crib, so that wheelchair users can get in closer to the baby. It works for me because this way I don’t have to worry about if I can bend low enough to get to her.
Liam did everything he could to make this as easy as possible, and this time around money is no object. Most of Jack’s baby furniture was second-hand or what was on sale when I remembered what I would need. We managed, but Liam doesn’t want us to just survive: he wants Charlotte to have the best by giving me the best.
I came home one day when I was nine months pregnant to find a mini fridge in the master bedroom, I thought Liam was going through some frat boy phase.
He bought it because after we talked about not breastfeeding he wanted to move the master suite downstairs. He said it would make sense, close to the kitchen for warming a bottle and not having to walk downstairs if I am in pain. Selfishly, I didn’t want that.
This master suite is beautiful and the tub in the en suite has jets that work wonders for me. I didn’t want to give that up so we compromised. The mini fridge was the start of that, we can keep a few ready-made bottles in there so neither of us have to go downstairs to mix it up during the night. He also bought a portable bottle warmer to help with not having to go downstairs whenever she is hungry.
Liam left a bottle in the warmer when he left and I will sing his praises until the cows come home because that means I can wait for my painkillers to kick in before having to get out of bed. I press the lift button on the crib and take Charlotte into my arms. In between screams her little perfect lips are smacking together searching for food.
Breathing is hard through the pain but eliminating the mum guilt of leaving her crying while my painkillers kick in has lifted a weight from me that I didn’t even know was there.
While the painkillers start to take the edge off I get to look down at my amazing little girl as she guzzles her milk. I don’t know how something so small can eat so much or scream so much, she really is her father’s daughter.
After our postnatal appointment the nurse commented on how well Charlotte is doing despite being born a little bit early. I think she just wanted to make an entrance early enough that her dad could spend time with her without being distracted by hockey. I know Coach Mitch told Liam he could take some time off after the baby was born, but if the Spears were losing because Liam was at home I know the guilt would eat him up, especially seeing how this is his last season.
Liam has changed a million ways since college but one that stands out the most is his opinion on painkillers.
As a hockey player he has always been pro pain relief, but pain killers as a chronically ill person work differently. He had to find that out the hard way when we were younger, to give me the benefit of the doubt that I was in a lot of pain and my meds were not touching the sides, and this poor, stupid twenty-year-old complained that I must be lying about taking them because medication kills the pain.
I think a small part of why he is so adamant with finding every way to help me now stems from conversations we had all those years ago in university.
Once Charlotte is burped and fully awake I decide that a banana is not going to be enough this morning. Sometimes when I’m in pain I am so unbelievably nauseous that food is the last thing on my mind, but today I am craving something sweet.
Knowing there is no way my arms will have the strength to carry Charlotte around the house I tie her to me with one of the Moby carriers Liam bought. Not only did he buy one in every colour to match my outfits, he also bought hip carriers and back carriers of all sizes, Charlotte is going to be carried in style for a few years.
It helps me be hands-free too. Using the banister on the stairs is one of the only ways I can get down, well I could bump down the stairs on my arse, but the shock to my spine would probably not be welcomed. Having Charlotte on my chest means I can grip the banister on one side and support more weight against the wall with the other.
Having no stairs when Jack was born was super helpful, that was until I had to leave the flat and had to go down two flights of rickety steps. These solid wood stairs with a plush carpet runner are a lot less scary.
Everything about the postnatal life has been a lot less scary this time not just because of how great Liam has been but because I am a different type of parent now. I am stronger. I have a village to lean on and my past mistakes to learn from, fear just doesn’t cripple me the way it did.
By the time I am plating some waffles I hear tiny footfalls behind me and turn to see Jack wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“Morning, bud.”
“Morning Mum, morning Lottie.” He yawns wide, clearly not ready to be up and about.
I know he will be more awake once he has eaten so I give him the first plate of waffles, making more for myself. I watch with a smile as he picks his fruit and honey as toppings while mine cook.
“How about once we’ve eaten we jump back in the big bed and watch the big TV?” I will get to spend time with Jack and rest my body as much as I can while Liam is training. Perfect.
“Can we watch cartoons?” he asks sceptically.
“Sure thing, bud.” I laugh.
“Yesssss!” He pumps his fists in the air like he just scored the winning goal at the Stanley Cup finals.
He starts to shovel the waffle into his face while I plate my own up. I pick chocolate sauce for the top because there is a deep need for sugar in my blood today.
We spend the next few hours just cuddling in the master bed, watching anything Jack desires. Charlotte switches between laying between us making beautiful gargling noises and sleeping against my chest.
That is how she is when Liam gets home. He walks into the room to see the three of us cuddled together as Scooby-Doo plays in front of us. His eyes scan us with nothing but deep love and excitement, it’s like his eyes don’t know where to focus first. They eventually settle on me though. I know exactly how he feels when he smiles and shakes his head while kicking off his shoes and joining us in bed.
“Hey gorgeous,” he whispers against my lips as he kisses me softly. He pulls Jack into his side and rests one hand on Charlotte’s back feeling as she snores softly. “I’m going to order some pasta for dinner, what do you want?”
“Pizza!” Jack and I cheer at the same time, much to Charlotte’s annoyance. She wakes slightly with a grumpy, wrinkled face before dropping right back off again. I notice when her dad gets out of bed to get his phone from his sports bag his smile never once drops.