42
Beckett
“You alright, Pen?” I call as the sound of Grayson’s screams ricochet off the walls, and I rush down the hallway to our bedroom with a towel wrapped loosely around my hips and beads of water dripping down my chest. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to jump in the shower while they both napped. He always wakes up when Penny finally falls asleep. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“He won’t stop,” Penny sobs from the middle of our bed, bouncing our red-faced, three-week-old son in her arms as tears stream down her cheeks.
The sight has my chest tightening.
“Oh, baby,” I mutter, immediately crossing the room. “Give him here.”
She shakes her head and wipes her face with the sleeve of her baby-pink pyjama shirt. “No. I should be able to do this. Why can’t I make him stop? I’ve fed him and burped him. He isn’t wet. He’s supposed to be asleep. Why won’t he sleep?”
It’s hard to understand her through the gut wrenching sobs, but I get the gist.
“Hey,” I whisper, lowering myself onto the side of the bed, and stroking our son’s head as he begins to quieten down. “You’re an incredible mother,” I assure her, looking into her glistening hazel eyes. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t handball him right on over to me when he decides to boycott sleep. You need to rest, baby. Your body is still healing, all while trying to produce enough milk to fill little man’s endless pit of a stomach.”
She huffs out a laugh and looks down at the now silent baby in her arms. “He stopped,” she whispers, and I let out a relieved sigh, but then new tears replace the ones drying on her cheeks. “He likes you more than me,” she chokes out. “He stopped as soon as you got here!”
Oh, Jesus.
“Now that simply isn’t true,” I say, taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger, and forcing her to look back up at me. “You, Penny McIntyre, are his mum. His favourite person in the entire world. In his eyes, I don’t even compare.”
She gives me a watery smile. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not. I know, because you’re mine, too.”
Her bottom lip trembles as her eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “I’m so tired.”
I nod. “I know, baby. Give him here and go back to sleep.”
Our sleep schedule is a mess. It’s only 10:00AM, but we’ve been awake since 9:00PM last night.
Cluster feeding is no fucking joke, but we’ve got a little routine going.
He’ll wake up, I’ll grab him from his bassinet, which I have pressed up to my side of the bed, then I’ll pass him to Penny once she’s sat herself up and popped the breast-feeding pillow across her lap. Then, while she’s feeding him, I’ll get her some water, and a little snack, and once she’s done, I’ll burp him and get him back to sleep.
Teamwork makes the dream work , is what I keep telling myself, and her.
After a moment of hesitation, Penny passes me a wide-eyed Grayson, and watches as I stand with him protectively clutched to my chest and cross the room to the brown leather recliner I dragged in here from the lounge room. As I sink into the chair, she lets out a sigh and wiggles herself back down the bed so that she’s lying down with the covers pulled up to her chin.
“Alright, little mate,” I whisper to Grayson as I start gently bouncing him up and down with his chubby cheek smooshed against my sternum. “Time for a nap.” He lets out a little whine. “Uh, uh,” I whisper, running my fingers through his thick head of hair. “Mumma needs some rest. We’re not doing that.” Surprisingly, he stops, and after another minute of bouncing him against my chest and rocking back and forth in my chair, his eyes flutter shut, and he goes limp in my arms. “There we go. Off to sleep.”
“Beck?” Penny whispers.
“Yeah, baby?” I whisper back, staring down at our sleeping son.
“You’re my favourite person, too.”
I grin and close my eyes as I continue rocking, feeling like the luckiest mother fucker in the world, and soon enough, her soft snores fill the silence, letting me know she’s fallen back asleep.
Twenty minutes later, the sound of our front door opening and closing alerts me to someone entering the house, but I don’t bother getting up, ‘cos I know it’s one of the three people.
I listen as the fridge is opened, and then closed, and then as soft footsteps pad down the hallway.
Molly appears in the doorway, a soft smile spread across her face seconds later. “I’ve popped some lasagnas and a beef stew in the fridge,” she whispers, as she tip-toes across the room. “And there’s a couple loaves of fresh bread on the counter.”
“Thank you,” I whisper back.
She nods, crouches down in front of me, and runs her hand over the back of Grayson’s head. “Ryan will be over later to mow the front lawn. He’ll message you before he does, though, to make sure no one’s asleep, and Evie’s bringing over more cookies from Sophie, and a massive batch of caramel slice once she’s finished up at the café. Oh, and Mack came in yesterday and asked about you. Said he hadn’t called or messaged ‘cos he didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You’re the best, Mol.”
She shakes her head. “Just doing what family does. You guys are doing an amazing job. I’m so proud of you.” Her voice wobbles a little as she speaks, even more so when she glances over at Penny, tucked underneath the covers, fast asleep. “Alright,” she says, standing back up. “I’m off. Love you both.”
I grin. “We love you, Aunty Molly.”
As she creeps out of the room, and back down the hall, I hold my son against my body a little tighter, and come to the realisation that even though my dad never bothered to call back to find out that he exists, and Penny’s mother still hasn’t pulled herself away from her holiday to come and meet her grandson, Pen and I have given Grayson the best family he could ever ask for.