Chapter 13
Haden
The night is broken by Arianna’s scream, and for a second I’m chained to the bed.
My body is unable to move because my brain is still clinging to the world of dreams. The sharp and desperate wail penetrates the fog of sleep my mind is still swimming in, and I pull my eyes open to the soft light illuminating the room.
When she resumes her wailing, my eyes pop open and I reach inside the crib, placing one hand on her tummy to gently rock her from one side to the other, muttering, “Shh, princess, Daddy is here.”
I make sure not to restrain her limbs because she doesn’t like it when she can’t put her full fist inside her mouth, and she loves kicking off whatever I place on top of her to keep her warm.
I rock her more, praying that it does the trick, and she falls asleep again, so I can go back in the arms of Morpheus.
With my other hand I pat around the little bed trying to find her dummy, and find it stuck between the mattress and the wooden slat. I pick it up and I bring it closer to her mouth, hoping that’s what she’s missing.
Arianna sucks on it for a bit, but then she spits it out, unhappy with it.
I try again but it doesn’t work, and she turns her head left and right to show me how displeased she is by my insistence.
Glancing at Arianna, trying with a half-awake brain to understand what’s wrong, just to find her face is all frowned up, red and furious, I don’t see the end in sight.
I crawl to the end of the bed and stand on unsteady feet, feeling a little dizzy from lack of sleep.
I try to scoop her up, but my beginner skills work against me and it takes three attempts to do it, and a lot of contortionism to get her nestled in my arms. All the while I make soothing sounds, hoping to calm her down.
Sometimes rocking her while standing, walking around the room, or just bouncing her lightly are her favourite things to do instead of sleeping, but those I dislike the most. Especially when I’m tired and the only thing I want is to close my eyes, be flat on my back, sound asleep and not aware of the living world.
The dreaming world is more fun, because I don’t need to do anything and I can keep my eyes shut.
I’d be lying if I said that I don’t like having her in my arms, but I sure prefer when she’s smiling at me and being all princessy, instead of a screech demon who wants to make me stand, walk, or just function when my brain is still asleep.
I still don’t understand how she can be so quiet one moment, and the next she’s scaring me to death. Sometimes I believe the police are gonna knock at my door and take her away because they think I’m torturing her.
For a moment, surprised by the movement, she quiets, and I’m ready to call it a win, but when the new experience becomes an old thing she begins fussing again.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” I ask, patting her bum to check if she needs changing, but it’s dry. I’ve already failed with the dummy, so maybe she needs her bottle. “Do you need your bottle?” If only she could talk, it would solve half of my problems.
I pull the blanket from the chair and place it on top of Arianna. The last thing I want is for her to get a cold. I open the door, and quickly walk to the kitchen, the movement making her cries stop.
The moon is shining through the window tonight, immersing the room in a pallid light that allows me to avoid turning the light on. It would make Arianna even more finicky than what she is.
I open the cupboard and pull out one of the bottles, then pull the big can of dry milk towards me while I bounce Arianna to keep her calm. I remove the top of her bottle that’s only resting on the bottom, and then open the can and use the smurf-like spoon inside to gather some of the milk.
My hand trembles before I can reach the opening, and some of the powder spills on the counter. “Oh, come on, man, it’s not rocket science,” I whisper to myself, and my voice sounds desperate and tired. I spoon some more until I reach the required quantity.
Arianna chooses that moment to break the silence and her cries echo through the house.
I hope Jay is a heavy sleeper, because Arianna is not taking prisoners tonight. I quickly prepare the bottle and once it’s warm, I taste it on my wrist, and for the grace of some deity it’s at the perfect temperature.
Jay helped the first few nights, because I wasn’t able to do anything. He was calm, handling everything between one yawn and the next, and at the same time teaching me how to be a dad. I’ll be forever grateful for what he’s done for me, for us.
I can’t believe it’s been just over a week that we’ve known each other, because he slipped into my life on tiptoes as if he’s always been part of it.
Even now he keeps asking before we go to our rooms if he can help.
While I want to say yes all the time because of the stress that caring for Arianna on my own puts me through, I also love having her all for myself.
By the time I settle on the chair in the room, Arianna’s screams have softened into tired hiccups.
I press the bottle to her tiny mouth, and the silence spreads through the house, interrupted only by her powerful suctions. Arianna drinks greedily, her eyes fluttering and her hands gripping the bottle as if she’s afraid it’ll be taken away.
I stare at her small, relaxed and perfect face, her lashes still damp from her tears, and her mouth, so similar to Halia’s, working at an even pace.
I use one of my fingers to caress her nose, just a little tilted up, and she stops sucking for a moment as if deciding whether my touch is disturbing her or not.
I would give everything to have Halia here, so she could enjoy this moment with us.
Enjoy the smell of talc and milk, enjoy the weight on her arm, enjoy the small sounds she’s emitting while hungrily drinking her bottle.
How many things is Halia going to miss, and in losing her I gained something precious.
Something I’m going to defend with my life.
All at once, a bone-deep exhaustion spread through me, mixed with something I’m afraid to call joy. I’ve never been so tired, and I’ve never been so needed.
Jay sleeping in the other room fills my mind, and for a moment I wish he was here to tell me that I can lean on him and that everything’s going to be fine.
I have this nagging feeling that something is coming, but I’m not sure if it’s just my anxiety or if my guts are talking to me.
When I brought Jay home I thought I was saving him, but now I’m not sure who’s doing the saving. What I wonder sometimes is how someone can feel like home.
When the bottle is empty, I rock Arianna for a while, exhausted but too emotional to let her go so soon. When her finger wraps around mine I swallow hard. “Baby girl, we’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out. And if we can’t, Jay will tell us what to do.”
I place the bottle on the bedside table, and stand so I can put Arianna down.
Then I sit again on the chair, looking at her and thinking how lucky I am.
I never thought I could think or say something like that, but in this now quiet room, with Jay sleeping in the other one, this house finally feels like a home.
Unable to go back to sleep, I walk to the kitchen, in need of a glass of water. I rub my eyes, trying to dissipate the exhaustion caused by the sleepless nights that babies bring with them.
I spot Jay leaning on the sink, his hair a mess but perfect for his face.
Under the moonlight Jay looks like an angel.
An angel I want to make mine.