Chapter Forty-Two
ISOBEL
Minneapolis
Leaning my forehead against the cold tile of the shower, I let the tears stream down my cheeks. The past month had been a nightmare. Adrian kept insisting that none of this was my fault, but it sure as hell felt like it.
My body was the one that failed to keep her inside longer.
My body not producing enough milk was the reason she started losing weight and had to be put on a feeding tube.
My selfish desire to take that promotion had put me in a position where I was worried I couldn’t give her the attention she’d need.
I’d brought her into this world, and I felt completely unequipped to help her navigate it.
“Is, you okay?” Adrian’s voice drifted into the fog of my brain, and I reached up to wipe the tears from my eyes. I knew it upset him when I cried, but when I was alone, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “We’ve got about an hour before we need to head to the hospital. The nurses called and said she passed the physical and the last car seat test this morning. I booked us some tickets to go home on the direct flight from Minneapolis to Boston at six tonight.”
We’d been waiting for this for days—for weeks. Finley had finally started eating on her own, but one requirement for release from the NICU was a two-hour car seat test where they monitored her heart rate and oxygen levels.
Today was the fourth time they’d done it, and I’d almost lost hope she’d be able to be discharged. It was nearly the end of March, and I’d gotten to the point where I didn’t even know what day it was.
“Is?” The door closed, and I took a deep breath, trying to gather the energy to finish washing my hair.
Closing my eyes and trying to focus on my breaths, I slowly felt the tension leaving my body. Until a warm hand settled between my shoulder blades. Adrian didn’t speak as he gathered me into his arms, hugging me to his bare chest while his palm cradled the back of my head.
My shoulders shook as he held me, and I somehow appreciated that he wasn’t instantly trying to figure out why I was crying. These days, I didn’t even know why. Every time I thought we’d made some progress; we’d show up in her room in the morning and she’d had a rough night and the waiting continued.
Finley was more alert as the days passed, and such a sweet baby during the day. But at night, she cried, she refused to sleep, she wouldn’t eat; I was terrified when we didn’t have a team of nurses to step in, I’d fail her again.
Hutch and Adrian had tried to keep me distracted. They brought me snacks, and they made me take walks around the hospital if Finley was out of the room for tests. Adrian held me when I was tired, and Hutch would go buy us dinner every night, so we weren’t reliant entirely on hospital cafeteria food.
Having them both here was a godsend, but I still wanted to curl up inside myself and cry until I had no tears left.
“Did you wash your hair yet?” Adrian asked, his fingers combing through the wet tangles. When I shook my head, he didn’t even hesitate, lathering his hands and gently cleaning my hair, tipping me backward into the stream of the water to rinse.
My chest shook as he smoothed the conditioner into the ends, unable to hold back the tears .
“I know things seem like they’re overwhelming right now, but I’m here. However you need me, I’m here.” He pulled me back into his chest and let me cry, finally turning off the water when it started to cool.
He dried me off, combing my hair and wrapping me in a towel before he led me back into our room. He’d moved us from the hotel where the wedding was held into one a few blocks away from the hospital. As I stared at the polyester comforter, I finally felt relief that we’d be leaving this place. How families endured this for months was completely baffling. If I had to spend another day in this place, I wasn’t sure my heart would survive it.
“I packed your suitcase. We just need to put your toiletries inside it. Hutch went and got some more preemie clothes and a backpack diaper bag. It’s kind of disturbing how much my brother likes picking out pink shit with ruffles on the butt.” I was only half listening as he laid an outfit next to me on the bed.
“The hospital said they can send us home with plenty of preemie formula and a note for TSA. They’ll still have to inspect it, but it should be enough to get us home. Ma went and picked some up and dropped it off at my apartment. We’ve got preemie diapers and plenty of wipes in my carry-on. I know she hasn’t really taken to the pacifier, but we picked up several to try out if she needs one on the plane.”
After he finished getting dressed, he knelt in front of me on the carpet, placing his hands on my knees. “We got this, babe. Tonight, she’ll be home.”
Nodding, I sniffled, trying not to cry again. Adrian helped me get dressed, kissing me on the forehead when he stood after tying my shoes. I hated he had to help me get through things I never blinked an eye at before.
“Sloane wants me in the office on Monday to talk about a few things, and to get my paternity leave paperwork filled out. But I can work remotely for at least two weeks before I need to start going in a couple of days a week. ”
I knew there was an application for temporary leave sitting in my inbox. But I couldn’t make myself open it, much less fill it out.
We’d originally planned for me to take twelve weeks of maternity leave, and five of those were already gone. I missed work. The traveling part, not so much, but I missed my authors. I missed feeling like I was doing something meaningful helping get people’s stories out in the world.
I wasn’t even sure how I was going to get through the next 48 hours, much less seven more weeks of feeling like I had no control over any part of my life.
“You ready to go? Hutch was going to get breakfast, so we didn’t have to eat those rubbery eggs in the continental breakfast downstairs. He found a bakery that had chocolate almond croissants on the other side of the hospital. He texted that he’ll meet us there. I already put his bag in the rental car.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d do without them being here to keep me from completely breaking down. And I hated Adrian was so worried about me. Just another thing to feel guilty about.
Going through the motions, I checked the room for any stray belongings, zipping up my suitcase after I’d stuffed everything inside.
“I need to pump,” I whispered, pulling the portable pump from my carry-on bag and sitting down on the edge of the bed. Adrian disappeared with the bags as I got everything set up. The familiar tingle of my milk letting down made my stomach turn.
I felt like the baby books had lied to me as I mechanically went through the motions, tucking the cups into my nursing tank and pressing the button to turn it on. They made breastfeeding seem like this magical experience, but I just felt like a cow with raw and battered nipples. Finley had done a number on them, biting down when she couldn’t get a good latch, so I’d resorted to pumping most of the time. Motherhood was out to get me. I couldn’t even rely on my own body to feed my child .
Adrian returned, and I turned away, hating that even this made me want to cry. He hesitantly sat behind me on the bed, his thighs bracketing mine as he pulled me back to lean against his chest.
“You don’t have to be in here while I do this. I know it’s weird.”
His nose skimmed the side of my neck, goosebumps following in his wake, and I winced as I felt myself let down again. “You’re doing something that feeds our child. A breast pump is not going to scare me away.”
His hand settled on my stomach, his thumb slowly caressing me through my thin tank top while he waited for me to finish. I felt like he’d never see me as the woman I once was after this. My body wasn’t even close to being the same as before I got pregnant, and now I was just a milk dispenser. A faulty one at that.
He didn’t even hesitate once I turned off the pump and disconnected the collection cups, standing to retrieve the storage bottles from the small cooler bag I carried around when we weren’t at the hospital. After watching me transfer the contents, he grabbed the washable parts and disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing a few moments later with everything cleaned and tucked back into the carrying case.
“A few more hours,” he murmured after pulling me into his arms, kissing my cheek before he helped me pack up the remaining things in the room.
While I was terrified to take her home, I was ready to leave this part of our journey behind.
Eight very long hours later, I was flanked by both men, walking toward the gate where we’d board the plane home. Finley had been sleeping for the last twenty minutes since we’d tucked her back into the car seat after going through security, and as long as we kept the stroller moving, she seemed content.
It was insane how much we needed for a three-hour flight to Boston. We’d checked our suitcases, but we had a diaper bag, both men had backpacks and we had a small cooler full of breastmilk and formula that’d been treated like a bomb by TSA.
When the agent had told us we needed to dump out the unsealed bottles I’d pumped, Adrian had scared the shit out of the poor guy quoting TSA breastmilk guidelines to him. After a few tense moments, he’d let us pass, apologizing for the misunderstanding. The thought of pouring out what’d taken me hours to produce would have devastated me.
“Do you want me to sit with her on the plane?” Adrian offered as we sat down near the gate.
“She seems to be doing okay, I’ll stay with her. You two will be right behind me. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s only a few hours.”
Only it wasn’t fine. Ninety minutes into the flight, Finley had been startled awake from the seat beside me and shrieked louder than I’d been aware a six-week-old baby could. Her ear-piercing wail had garnered the attention of everyone in the seats surrounding us, and I scrambled to free her from the straps of the car seat.
“It’s okay, sweet girl. I know you’re probably getting hungry.”
She momentarily calmed, closing her eyes and resting her head on my chest as little puffs of air escaped her pursed lips. I stared at her, watching her eyelids flutter as a tiny fist held onto a lock of my hair. It still hardly felt real that she was mine. That I’d made her.
A few moments later, the plane dipped, hitting a pocket of turbulence, and her face scrunched, her fist tightening before she started crying again. Knowing she was probably hungry, I pulled out my nursing wrap and carefully pulled down my tank top to let her nurse. I’d already leaked onto the fabric, which seemed to be a constant problem because I let down every time she cried. Which was a lot .
Her tiny lips clasped the offered nipple, but she refused to latch, squirming and biting me until I gasped.
Adrian’s hand appeared between the seats, holding one of the tiny formula bottles. Carefully tucking myself away, I turned her to cradle in my arms. I tried offering her the bottle, watching as she took two sucks and then gurgled as her distress became more evident.
My pulse started to pound when she arched her back and let out a pained squeal. Glancing at the seats around us, I saw several people had turned, watching as my daughter’s whimpers turned into angry cries.
Trying every tactic I’d been taught in the hospital, I rubbed her back, offered her a pacifier, bounced her in my arms, but nothing worked as I watched her little face turn red. Listening to her broke my heart.
As tears welled in my eyes, a hand settled on my shoulder, Hutch leaning around my seat from behind me. “Let me take her. Switch me seats.”
Shaking my head, I tried to sway her from side to side, patting her back.
Hutch stood, holding his hand out while he waited next to my seat in the aisle. “I wasn’t asking. I can take her. You sit with Adrian.”
“But...” Finley’s screams didn’t show any signs of stopping, and after an arched eyebrow from my boyfriend’s twin, I knew we needed to try something.
Standing, I stepped out into the aisle, reluctantly laying my daughter in his arms after he’d taken my seat. He cooed at her, and I watched helplessly as she hiccupped, her cries quieting as she grasped one of his large fingers in her fist. “Go sit, I’ve got her.”
Hesitating, I watched him effortlessly work to calm her cries, his soft voice talking to her. I was thankful he could get her settled, but it just made me feel guilty. Made me feel more like a failure at motherhood .
“Babe, come sit.” Adrian extended his hand toward me, pulling me into the aisle seat, and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “She’s fine. Let him sit with her. If she gets upset again, you can switch back.”
“I can’t even keep her from crying.”
He sighed at my quiet admission, pulling me into his chest and leaning down to whisper into my ear. “Just rest, please. You’re doing the best you can. Let the baby whisperer do his thing and let me hold you.”
The sun had set as we crossed the Midwest, the dark night sky visible past Adrian’s shoulder through the tiny oval window. Listening to his heartbeat, I let my eyes close. Hutch’s whispers to our daughter shifted into the low dulcet sounds of a children’s song I couldn’t quite place, and I let myself drift as the quiet sounds of the airplane carried us back home.