Chapter 43
Karissa
It’s April now, which means it’s still snow goose season, which also means Cody’s still gone more than he’s home.
Early mornings, late nights, scouting, and airport trips.
I know it’s his job. It’s the life he lives and the life I chose to be a part of.
But that doesn’t mean I love every second of it.
Emma’s going to be one next month, but she’s going through some kind of sleep regression or something.
That’s what Ella told me, at least. When I finally looked it up, rocking her in the dark with my eyes barely open, I was surprised to see these miserable nights of fighting her to sleep actually have a name.
That it’s apparently a thing. A phase. Normal.
But it doesn’t feel normal when I’m sitting outside the nursery door, crying, while she screams from the other side after I leave.
It takes her two hours to fall asleep most nights, and when she finally does, she’s back up again an hour or two later. I can’t remember the last time I slept longer than three hours in a row.
The postpartum depression I thought I was shaking has seemed to sneak back in. Or maybe it never really left.
These long days with Cody gone have me feeling like I’m failing most days. Like I’m letting everyone down. Sometimes I cry for no reason and sometimes I cry for a million reasons.
I haven’t told Cody how bad it’s gotten. I don’t want to dump all this on him when he’s already stretched so thin. But I know he sees some of it. Especially when I’m short-tempered and easily frustrated.
I know this won’t last forever. I know this season will pass. But right now, I can’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Cody walks in the door at seven forty-five. I’m on the couch, staring at the baby monitor like it’s a bomb about to go off. Emma’s finally laying down, but if she sits up or stands, it’s over. The rocking cycle starts again, and I don’t have it in me tonight.
“Hey,” Cody says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. He smells like nature, dirt, water, dogs, and mud. The usual. “You okay?” he asks, still standing beside the couch, watching me.
I brush the wispy hair out of my face and sigh. “Yeah.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not,” I snap, sharper than I mean to. I keep my eyes on his so he believes me.
He takes a half step back. “Karissa, your shirt’s inside out…and you’ve got something in your hair. Is that…?”
He reaches toward it, but I swat him away and feel for it myself.
“Food, probably,” I mutter, pulling out a crusty, unidentifiable couple crumbs.
“Why don’t you shower first. I got the monitor.”
“Okay.” I stand, and just as I reach the bathroom door, I hear the whine that eventually will build into a loud cry.
My entire body slumps. I have absolutely nothing in me to keep going. To sit in there another hour and rock her. I can’t.
Just as tears well in my eyes, I hear Cody behind me. His hands rub my shoulders. “I said I’ve got her,” he whispers and leaves a kiss on the back of my head.
When I get out of the shower, he’s in our room, undressing. He looks at me as he rolls his belt around his hand.
“How was your shower?”
“Good. I’m very tired. I just wanna go to bed now.”
“Okay…is everything okay?”
I huff. “Yes. Why do you keep asking that?”
His brown eyes hold mine, steady. He swallows. “Because…you’re my wife?”
“I said I was tired, Cody. That’s all.” I pull on a T-shirt and start toward the bed, trying to ignore the way he keeps watching me.
“Okay, well tomorrow might be later. The next group’s flight isn’t coming in until seven—”
With the corner of the blanket in my hand, I lean my head back and groan. But really, I want to scream.
“You can’t be mad at me,” he says.
My eyes cut to him. “You don’t get to tell me what I can or can’t be mad about.”
He lifts his hands slightly. “I just mean—”
“No. You don’t get to do that,” I snap, pointing at him now. “I’m tired. I’m alone all day. I’m touched out and overstimulated and burnt out and doing my absolute best not to lose it, and you’re gonna stand there and say I can’t be mad?”
“You have to push through. We’re halfway done.”
“I am pushing through! If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here!”
His brows pull together. “What do you mean, you wouldn’t be here?”
“I mean I would’ve left. But I stay. I show up. I rock her for hours. I cry behind closed doors and still smile in front of your family. I am pushing through. So, my bad if I have a frickin’ attitude sometimes.”
“Riss—”
“We haven’t eaten together in days. No Bible study. No just sitting on the couch like we used to. No sex. Nothing. And I feel like I’m the only one who feels the aftermath and actually cares!”
“Baby, I do care,” he says, voice calm, too calm for the storm inside me.
“Then prove it.”
“I can’t prove it tonight. You said you were tired. You’re going to bed.”
I shake my head, crawling under the blanket. “Exactly.”
He huffs. “Alright, fine. I’ll shower and we’ll have sex.”
“Absolutely not.”
“What? Why?”
I sit up, blood boiling. “Because that is the last thing on that list I want right now.”
Something in him snaps.
“Alright, well, whatever then! Fine! I’m sorry I suck!” he barks, yanking the door open and shutting it behind him…hard.
And just like that, it’s silent again.
Except for the baby monitor, faintly buzzing beside me.
I lay my head down on the pillow and force my eyes shut. If I wasn’t so angry, I’d probably cry. But I’m too mad and too tired.