“I’m okay,” I respond, trying my best to sound nonchalant.
Ana takes a sip from her cup, and only when it sits back on her saucer with a lightclink, does she say, “Bullshit.”
A nervous laugh escapes my lips, and my hand holding my cup pauses halfway to my mouth. “I-I’m sorry?”
“That’s bullshit, Hun. You know it.” She points at me. “I know it.” Then she points to herself. “So, tell me, how are youreallydoing?”
I blink. Ana is very… well, she’s abrupt. I’ll give her that. I can see where Wyatt gets it from. I think about her question, reallythink about it. And when I do, I instantaneously feel heat bloom behind my eyes, and my throat constrict like someone’s just placed their foot on it. With everything that’s been going on, I don’t think I’ve fully given myself time to process this past month, let alone the past year of my life. Of course, I’m not okay. I know this, but I’ve been fine. I’m always just…fine.Isn’t that enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?
Ana’s eyes soften when I look at her again. Her eyes are so similar to Wyatt’s, and my resolve finally crumbles. Because… because it’s not enough. What would I tell Brinley if she asked me that? I’d tell her beingokayisn’t being happy, wouldn’t I?
“Um… I guess, I’m not okay.” I wrinkle my nose. “I feel like my entire world is falling apart. I feel like I haven’t been able to catch a break since I got pregnant. I went to the doctor a few days ago, and they gave me some meds. Said I should start seeing a therapist.” The words come out so quickly, that I wish I could shove them all back in. The Conways seem to have a way of making me open up more than I want to.
When Brinley was born, all I could think about was what could go wrong. Intrusive thoughts haunted me so horribly that I couldn’t even sleep. While it’s gotten mildly better the longer I’ve been a mom, they’ve never left entirely. They’re still there, brewing in the back of my head every time I see her. Intrusive thoughts that are so unrealistic they make me feel like I’m going insane.What if I drop her while going down the stairs? What if I shake her too hard while I am trying to soothe her? What if she stops breathing in the middle of the night, and I don’t know because I was asleep?All I was sure of when I brought her home from the hospital, was that the safest place she could ever be was in my belly. Because in a world full of unpredictable situations and horrific people, how the hell could I keep her safe?
This mentality, along with being home alone for four weeks straight on maternity leave drove me into a depression so deep that I wasn’t sure if I would survive it.
Ana doesn’t say anything, she just stares at me like she expects me to continue, so I do. “I know it’s what I need to do. But I can’t help but feel like it makes me weak, you know? Why can’t I handle this, but other moms make it look so easy?” I ask, glancing towards my dark-haired mini. “I want Brinley to grow up with a strong mother figure. Not… not someone likeme.”
That last sentence is what cracks my chest wide open. Embarrassment mixes with the sense of failure and a million other emotions. Tears fall faster than I can stop them, and my breath picks up at an alarmingly fast rate. Ana’s hand shoots outto take my cup. Once she places them both down, she takes my trembling hands in hers.
“Being able to look in the mirror and say ‘I need help’ is the strongest thing you can do.” Her gentle hand comes up to wipe at my face, and the gesture makes another sob rack my body. “That doesn’t make you weak, my dear. Nobody, and I meannobody, could do and experience the things you have without breaking a little.”
“I don’t know how to do this by myself anymore.” I close my eyes, shaking my head. “I don’t even have a mom in my life. How am I supposed to be one to a little girl?”
Ana squeezes my hands. “Oh, my sweet girl. You’ve been doing this by yourself from the start, so I know you can. And when you truly feel like you can’t? You ask for help where it’s needed. No one knows how to be a mom the first time around.”
I know logically that makes sense. But it’s easier to say than it is to understand. My tears begin to ebb, and quiet sniffles follow in their departure.
“Do you remember what I told you when you were pregnant?” she asks. Ana’s words over a year ago stuck with me more than she probably realizes, but I don’t say that. I can’t bring myself to say anything, so I just nod. “You grow as they grow.” She reminds me. “Having a child is like walking around with your heart outside of your body. If you need help, or if you aren’t sure how to handle a situation, you ask me. Or you ask other moms.”
“Thank you, Ana.” I wish I had more to say. More to offer her after all of the wisdom and comfort she just spewed my way, but I don’t open my mouth in fear of bursting the dam back open. When was the last time I knew how to be anything other than a mother? To be anything other than what people needed me to be? More and more questions and doubts have risen from our talk, but I know they’re ones I’ll need to navigate myself.
“Don’t thank me. I am so happy you two have been brought into my life, even if it was through my broody son.” She looks down at where Brinley is smacking a stuffed animal against the porch railing. She looks back to me sheepishly. “I’ve been teaching her how to say ‘Nana’ all day.”
At that, Brinley looks over, points at Ana and yells, “Na-Na!”
We all erupt into a fit of giggles.
I’m goingto kill Wyatt Conway.
I’ve just finished putting Brinley to sleep when I shut the door to our room, more softly than my body wants to. I whip around to find Wyatt leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom with his stupidly large arms criss-crossed against his chest. “What the hell is this?” I motion my hand towards the door, like he can see through it. But he doesn’t need to, he knows what’s behind it.
We came home to the guest room completely rearranged. A new toddler bed sat in the corner. A pink box full of toys took up space at the end of the bed. A nightlight that plays lullabies and projects stars onto the ceiling now rests on the bedside table. A changing table is tucked under the window. The entire room is now babyproof, too. He had to have spent hours building and moving things around to set up all the thingshebought.
“That’s an odd way to say thank you.” Wyatt’s infuriating voice rakes down my spine. His sarcasm does little to ease my sour mood. I understand he means well, but it isn’t his job. Providing for Brinley, or me, isn’thisresponsibility. We may be living in his home, but he’s overstepped.
I do my best to stay quiet, but my whisper is quickly turning into a whisper-shout. “I told you from the beginning I didn’twant this to be a handout. The deal was that we stay here, and in turn I work for you.”
Wyatt pushes off the door and makes his way through the hall, muscles in his back shifting as he moves. He only turns to face me again once we’re in the living room. If I wasn’t so fucking angry, I’d thank him for taking this out of the hall and away from any chance of waking Brinley.
“I got you guys a couple things. That’s it.” He shrugs a shoulder, brushing me off. Like it’snota big deal. I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes for just a second. When I open them, I snap.
“That’s it? That’sit?” I shout, tone finally reaching an octave far too loud for this time of night. “You built a damn nursery in one day!”
He scoffs, muttering, “It’s hardly a nursery.”
“That’s not the point, Wyatt. What are you doing? What is this?” I wave a hand between us. “One second you can barely hold a conversation with me or look me in the damn eyes, and the next you’re building a crib for my kid? Buying a nightlight?”
