I haven’t. And it comes as a shock to me that we haven’t even thought about it. The resources are there for us. We havehealth insurance to cover the costs, much like it does for our own respective therapy sessions. A mediator would help us make our conversations productive rather than destructive. Why haven’t we considered it?
“I take that as a no,” he says when his question is met with silence. “It’s something I brought up to Teeny before she ended things. In hindsight, it was a shitty thing for me to ask. It was already too late for us and I was practically badgering her to give me another chance, but I was desperate. And I’m thinking you are too.”
I smirk through a nod. “When did you get so wise and enlightened?”
He chuckles. “I think right around the time I lost your sister.”
I don’t have a flippant comeback for that. Instead, I smirk. Teeny is so much better off than she was when she was with Leo. I see it in the way she glows. She flits through life with a kind of deftness I’m proud of. My baby sister who finally found her place. And though it took some time to get here, Leo is learning to live with the consequences of his actions, without being some petulant man child who blames everyone else for his mistakes.
I guess there is hope for all. Even at a time when everything feels so hopeless.
“If you’ll take some advice from an old divorcée who willingly eats more pepperoni pizza than I’d like to admit…”
I silently nod.
“Go get her,” he says, his lips a solemn line as he reads my reaction. “Tell her you aren’t giving up.”
I nod again, my head bobbing up and down with conviction. “Yeah.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kendall
THEN
The nurse takingmy vital signs winces when the Velcro rips loudly from the cuff that just finished measuring my blood pressure. “Sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s okay,” I whisper back. I peek at Sophia sound asleep in her clear bassinet. James snores lightly from his small cot-like bench in the far side of the room. I guess Sophia got her sleeping habits from her dad.
“I shouldn’t have to bother you for a while, so get some rest while she’s sleeping,” she instructs me. “And just press your call button if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
She tiptoes out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. And then it’s just me.
The labor was tiresome to say the least. They don’t call it labor for nothing. In the end, after hours and hours of pushing, they had to perform a C-section. I cried over it, feeling like a failure because I couldn’t have her the way I wanted, but then that passed. As soon as I heard her piercing cry fill the operating room, nothing mattered other than the fact that she was safe and out in the world. I could hold her and feed her and kiss her.
She stirs, her head whipping side to side like she’s just waking up in the most unpleasant way from a sweet slumber. She starts to whimper, which is a sign her protest is about to turn into a wail any second. Luckily, she’s within arm’s reach. I tug the bassinet on wheels a little closer and scoop her up in my arms. I look at the time. It’s just after two in the morning, which means it’s about time for her next feeding. Like clockwork.
James manages to sleep through the first of her cries. They’re muffled the second I latch her to my nipple. It’s a bit of trial and error, and I still don’t know if I’m getting it right, but she seems to be the pro. She starts suckling almost instantly, and she settles in as her eyes start to fall heavy once again. James stays asleep, and I don’t bother waking him just yet. When it’s time to change her diaper, I’m sure I’ll need his help, but for now, it’s just us Cohen girls. A little mommy and me time.
I’ve never been the type to believe in the novelty of love at first sight. But I felt it the second the nurse presented to me a bundled-up baby wrapped up like a little burrito. She fussed, wanting to get comfortable in someone’s arms, probably mine or James’s. And as I watched him hold her and soothe her as he tried to get the whole baby holding thing right, I started to understand. How a simple look could cause a person to fall completely head over heels. How it can be all-consuming and almost overwhelming.
“Hey, Soph, how you liking it here?” I ask. “The temperature all right? Got enough blankies?”
Her response is a harsher than usual suckle, and I wince from the pain. This whole breast-feeding thing is going to be somewhat of a hurdle. I don’t even know if she’s getting enough—if anything at all—but it’s a learning curve. And we’ll figure it out eventually.
“You know, you have an older sister?” I ask, as if she’d already know. And who knows. Maybe she did meet this sibling,in some alternate universe where they exchanged pleasantries only to realize they had something in common. They shared parents and DNA. A past but not a future. The only difference is that Sophia got to make it all the way to us, while this other baby never quite made it through. “It was a long time ago. Actually not that long ago, but we loved her too. Just as much as we love you. And now…we have you, so we aren’t too sad anymore.”
It feels wrong to say the words. They feel like a lie, pushed through gritted teeth in an attempt to wash away the darker thoughts in my head. Because that sadness isn’t fading away. Instead, they’re more vibrant and inkier with a macabre undertone. I feel it everywhere, all the way down to my fingertips, and it twists my insides. Guilt runs right alongside my heartache, and I don’t know how to make it stop. How dare I love this baby more than the one I lost? What kind of mother am I if I left behind a child?
I start to cry, and the tears fall off my chin and drop right onto my hospital gown. They blend in with the not-so-fashionable pattern, and I pull at my sleeve to wipe them away. Sophia continues to nurse, and I relish in her warm skin against mine. She’s perfect, and I love her so much.
“What’s wrong?” James gets up from his small bed, his eyes still groggy with sleep. He adjusts his hoodie before walking over to me, taking in my tears and my despondent state.
“I’m fine. It’s just the hormones,” I say, unsure if it’s a lie. Because what if it is? This post-partum crisis turning me into my own worst enemy by exposing all my worries and insecurities. I could just be dealing with the surge of pregnancy hormones. I might start crying at a diaper commercial next.
He perches his butt next to me in bed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He places a soft kiss on my temple as he says, “We did good, huh?”
