Chapter 14 #2
“Mmmhmm,” Daria said. “The ‘C’ word.” I closed my eyes and nodded, worried that the late afternoon crying spells might potentially be turning into the dreaded witching hours of colic.
Rosie was nearly three weeks old now and had only just begun figuring out that nighttime is the time for sleeping, and day for being awake. But now this.
“You look terrible.” Daria eyed me with concern. “You hire someone yet?”
I nodded. “Dylan starts tomorrow.” I tried to make my tone cheery, but it was hard to fake.
There’d been one further locums candidate to consider, but their references had been weak.
At least with Dylan, I knew my patients would get good care.
I only wished that I could shake the feeling that he was here for some other reason. And I hoped that reason wasn’t me.
I could have gone further and told her that on the other hand, I definitely wanted Adam, whom I hadn’t seen for over a week.
I thought of him often, especially in the middle of the night when I was feeding and changing and repeating that for what felt like a million times.
I didn’t need his help, but I wished for his calming presence, his jokes, and his constant ideas to solve any problem.
I missed him.
Daria rested a hand on my arm and looked me over with a wise expression that she often wore.
I felt like she could read straight through my forced cheer and straight into my brain.
“At this point, it doesn’t matter what you think of your ex,” she said slowly and carefully.
“You needed a warm body. It’s a matter of survival. But you know that, right?”
I gave her a little smile. She’d summed this entire situation up perfectly in two words: warm body. And she’d been smart enough not to mention her son.
I gave her a little squeeze. “Thank you for caring. I get it.” I let her out and then walked into Rosie’s room to find her crying lustily at enough decibels to make me want to slap my hands over both ears.
“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” I crooned in my most calming voice, which didn’t even cause a stutter in the loud and rhythmic waah-waah-waahs that felt like a drum beat vibrating through my body. She was drawing her little legs up, clenching her fists tightly, and waving her arms.
For a tiny little thing, she had a lot of intense energy. I wished I could bottle a little of it for myself because the past few weeks had been a hurricane of excitement, stress, and now exhaustion.
How many times a week did I counsel parents on colic? I knew all the signs, symptoms, and theories of this mysterious malady that struck infants at around two to three weeks and kept going strong for up to three months. But I’d never experienced it in living color.
I picked her up and tried to follow my own advice. Walk with her. Rock her. Put on soothing music or white noise. Swaddle her. Take her on a car ride.
For the next hour after Daria left, I did everything on the list but the last one. Nothing worked. I was wishing that I could pull the batteries for a break. Press the off button. Change the channel. Anything.
My phone went off with a text. Adam! I immediately thought. Just a little message to make me smile. Maybe a repost from harried new parents on Instagram who’d managed to put a funny spin on the nightmares of babyhood. Something to let me know that he was out there thinking of me as I was of him.
But it was Dylan. Hey, the text read. Pen and Helen got me acquainted with the office. Maybe we could have dinner tomorrow and I could fill you in on your patients.
Great that he’d gone to the office. But I hardly needed updates after my first day off.
My phone pinged with another text. Dylan yet again. P.S. Spoke to Daria earlier - If Baby R is colicky, I know some great techniques. Call me.
“I won’t call you,” I said in an aggressive tone to the phone before I collapsed onto the couch with Rosie on my shoulder.
That made her cry even more, so I somehow managed to haul both of us back up.
This time I put her belly down in my arms and walked around, rocking her horizontally back and forth.
No luck with that either.
I was worn down, in a haze of sleep deprivation. I wasn’t sure how long I could continue the demanding insanity of infant care without some kind of break.
I wanted to wail right along with her.
I didn’t ever want to get to the point where I took my frustration out on the baby.
Even worse, with my tiredness and frustration, all my doubts came surging back. I couldn’t do this alone. How could anyone? My knowledge about babies was all on paper, not based on real-life experience, which made me feel like I knew next to nothing. What had I been thinking?
I needed help. I needed bodies. I needed a fricking real maternity leave because I was a working single parent of a newborn and teetering on the edge.
This arrangement with Dylan could last a few weeks at best, because it came with a loss of my income.
I had remodeling bills, furniture bills, baby supplies bills, everything all at once.
My temporary time off came at a great price.
I was stewing in worry and wondering if something else was wrong with Rosie when the doorbell rang.
Not now. Please, not now.
Had Dylan actually had the balls to march right on over here? If he had, I wasn’t going to mince words. He needed to know that we had a business arrangement only.
“What is it?” I said in an impatient tone as I pulled open the door.
A blur of matted reddish-brown fur carrying a squeaky toy ran straight between my legs and flopped down in front of a couch, making himself right at home. Adam stood there looking anguished. Rattled. A little sheepish.
Because of me? Because of us?
I refused to be hopeful. I couldn’t bear the disappointment of being wrong.
He looked after the dog, who had now jumped on a couch and circled three times before settling in with his special toy.
“Sorry about bringing Arnold.”
“I love Arnold,” I said tartly. Sort of petulantly, as if the corollary was But I don’t love you.
I was happy to see him, but I suddenly realized…
angry. But I couldn’t tell if it was legit anger or if it was because I was nearing the end of my rope.
If Santa Claus stood at my door, smiling and ho-ho-hoing right now, I’d probably snarl.
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I said, apologizing for my gruff greeting.
But I didn’t offer to let him in. I wanted to hear what he was here for.
I refused to get my hopes up. I refused to feel the pull of attraction that always overtook me—just looking at his mussed hair, the concern on his face, the dark circles under his eyes. I couldn’t help the warmth that started in my stomach and spread everywhere.
I wanted to throw myself in his arms and tell him how happy I was to see him. But where had he been? What was he thinking? How could he not want to be involved with this miraculous child? With me?
Or was I out of my mind, thinking that anyone sane would ever want to sign up and ride along on this wild ride I’d created for myself?
He was a savior, but I didn’t need to be saved. I needed a friend.
And I wanted more. More than I was sure he could give.
“I want to help,” he said.
Oh, he was here to bail me out. Because he felt sorry. Probably Daria had called him on her way home, telling him how difficult things were.
I could barely hear him over the crying. “Thanks, but I’m fine,” I said stubbornly. I started to close the door, but he did a quick move and stuck his big foot in the way.
I turned into the room and began bouncing the baby. He walked right in and shut the door behind him.
“Hear me out.”
But the baby, maybe also picking up the strange vibes between us, was inconsolable.
Daria told me before she left that she’d just fed her four ounces.
Should I try more, even though that seemed like plenty?
No amount of bouncing or patting on her back, singing, begging, or praying was making any headway.
“We’re going to have to continue this some other time. Please go.”
I bit my lip because I was close to tears, but I didn’t want to show it. I wanted him to go, but I also wanted him to stay.
I was angry at him, but angrier at myself. How could I have success unless I set myself up for success? I should have hired Dylan a week ago instead of burning myself out.
“Does she need to be checked out?” Adam asked.
I shrugged. “It’s been happening all week at this time. Then, after about three hours, it ends, and she’s fine.”
“Classic colic.” He paused. “Please let me help.”
I opened my mouth to say that I didn’t need his help. But no words came out. The truth was, I could barely see straight. Every cry felt like a little knife cut.
Adam looked worried.
I think he should have been worried, because I was too. I was overwhelmed and close to tears. But I couldn’t ask him for help knowing he was just here to jump in and intervene like he’d done what seemed like so many times before.
He grabbed my arms, despite the wailing baby in them. His tone was gentle but insistent. “Ani, listen to me. I know you’re angry with me. But hand me the baby.”
Hand me the baby? I stared at him. He wanted the baby? I held my breath. Did that
mean he was here for…us?
I forced myself to speak what was on my mind for Rosie’s sake. Because I knew that
I could not continue like this, or I would lose it, which would be terrible for her. So I looked him right in the eye. “I don’t want you to help me out of guilt.”
“I’m not here out of guilt. I’m here because I think about you all the time. I miss you. Both of you. I miss being…here.”
Did I hear him right? Did that mean that he could love this baby?
I couldn’t focus with the crying. I couldn’t focus on anything. I looked into his worried brown eyes. “If you want to help me right now, there is one thing you can do.”
“Sure. Anything.” He seemed sincere. “You name it.”
Without any warning, I deposited the inconsolable baby into his arms. He froze, fumbled a little, and hung onto her. “Please take her and let me sleep for an hour.”
He looked stunned. A little shocked. But hey, he’d offered, right? And he didn’t turn away.
He stared at the tiny baby in his big arms, and I stared at him holding her in those big arms and held my breath. Rosie, startled by the sudden switch, stopped wailing for one second and then started right back.
I didn’t wait to see what happened next. I ran down the hall to my bedroom, closed the door, and collapsed onto my bed.