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ONE
Fresh,warm tears kissed my skin after a single blink, ran along my cheeks and ended their journey in the fresh linen beneath me. Voiceless, I’d been reduced to silent cries that I felt as if no one heard. And, as plentiful as they were, I seemed to always have more –and more and more.
For the last eight weeks, it was more of the same. Each day, I was a bit more rooted in my sorrows. I’d gotten so deep into the abyss that I didn’t think it was humanly possible to pull myself out. I felt like it was useless to even try at this point because I’d done so for weeks, only to end up in worse shape than I’d started. It was like a never ending cycle of sadness, tears, dissatisfaction, disappointment, and shame.
This new territory I was treading was both scary and embarrassing. Though it was likely I wasn't, I felt like the laughing stock of my home. All jokes were on me. Sometimes, I could even hear the gentle giggles at my expense. Maybe it was all in my head but maybe it wasn’t.
Rolling over in the bed that still felt foreign to me, I hugged the pillow. I missed my bed. I missed my children. I missed myself.I missed my Luca.
Isolation was never my preference, but lately it was the only thing that allowed me to maintain the piece of sanity I was clinging to. The second I attempted to step out of my new bedroom, the world came crashing down. I never imagined not sharing a room with the man I loved more than life itself, but it was life that had gotten in the way of that.
And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get back to that. I couldn’t get back to him. My center no longer existed – just darkness, pain, and depression. The thought of it made the same heart I’d used to love him heavy with grief for the loss of what we’d worked so hard to build. It hurt. All of it, burdening me with an anxiousness for the unknown that I could never and would never be able to fulfill.
“Eh. Eh. Eh. Ehhhhhhhh!” Lucas welled.
What was once the most precious sound was like fingernails on a chalkboard now. Cringing at the sound of my son’s cries was the most hurtful, but I seemed to get more peeved with the sound each time I heard it. The disgust had hardly anything to do with my precious boy and everything to do with my uselessness in his world. Aside from being his source of nutrients, I had nothing more to give him. Not even the love I’d given the rest of my children – especially in the first few weeks of their lives. This time, things were different.
Luca’s footsteps were the next thing I heard. Like clockwork, this was our morning routine. We’d been reduced to nearly nothing. Yet, he was still resilient and patient and beautiful and loving and so damn amazing that I was still wondering how God could make a man so perfect. And, then hand him over to me as if I deserved him. I didn’t. Especially not now.
As the father and son duo closed in on me, the cries got louder, the tears got thicker, and my breast began to throb as they lactated. My body sensed my son’s hunger and worked overtime to produce the milk that he needed to survive. It understood my son’s need and could still produce under stress while I withered away as if I couldn’t muster the strength to do the same. Though amazed at its capabilities, I was still jealous. I, too, wanted to be everything that my son needed. I just couldn’t be.
The creaking of the door as Luca pushed it open forced me to take a deep breath and hold it before releasing it. By the time I did, he was flipping on the light. My eyes burned as forced light intervened the darkness I preferred. I failed at the lousy attempt to get myself together, flopping my tired hand next to me on the bed instead of clearing my face of tears.
I had nothing to hide. Luca was well aware of all things concerning me. I had nowhere to hide, anyhow. He could feel it all. I could see the worry lines on his handsome face as he got closer and finally sat next to me on the bed.
Still hugging the pillow, I began to weep. His presence was the gravitational pull I tried resisting because it lowered me deeper into the hole I couldn’t climb out of. Feeling like the biggest disappointment in his world, I could hardly stand to look at him. I’d let him down. No longer was I the woman that he’d fallen in love with and married. I wasn’t Ever Sinclair and neither was I Ever Eisenberg. I wasn’t sure who I was.
Yet, he continued to master perfection and never left my side while doing so.
TWO
The ivory sheetsthat bundled on the bed once kept my heart warm. Now, she was four rooms down, furthest from every indication of life outside of her head. That’s the way she wanted it and deep down inside I knew it was the way she needed it.
Since our son Lucas was born, her mental health had spiraled and I was still trying to help her gain control of it. She didn’t want to be in the space she was in, which only pushed her further away. The thought of not being herself and unable to perform the tasks as the mother of our children gutted her and left her with mere pieces of the woman she was prior to his birth.
Postpartum depression was new for us both and it was the toughest shit I’d ever had to deal with. Not even the eight years that I put down in the government books compared. Seeing my wife broken and battered, mentally, without the power to help was heart wrenching. There was no amount of money in the bank that could cure her. There was no amount of pleading on either of our ends that would result in a decluttered mental space. Not even therapy had helped.
Lucas laid still on the bed as I watched his little chest rise and fall. He had fallen in line with the rest of our bunch and adopted all of his mother’s features. I was sprinkled throughout, but just like the rest of our children, he was Ever’s mini. His big blue eyes and light blonde hair was the only thing that separated him from the others. We were all still trying to figure out where they’d come from. But, came to the conclusion that both Ever's and my gene was recessive in that match up, leaving him with eyes unlike any of ours.
Clearing my throat, I tried swallowing the sea of emotions that rose each morning after I got the girls out of the door and strapped into San’s truck. I’d upgraded her Honda so that she could comfortably fit several car seats at once. Seeing the girls off to school with constant questions about mommy’s condition and curiosity of why she couldn’t participate in their mornings was a struggle that I’d never successfully conquer. Especially not when everyone was accustomed to having their mother be part of every minute of their day at home.
I saw my chef more than ever now. Dinner wasn’t prepared by Ever and I was simply too exhausted with the days work and the girls to cook it myself. With me caring for Lucas every day, San was the girls’ full-time nanny for the moment.
The clearing of my throat startled a sleeping Lucas. I stiffened, refusing to move a limb as I silently prayed that he didn’t wake up. My prayer went unanswered as he began to squirm a little more, eventually stretching his tiny arms and voicing his disdain. His belly was empty and it was time to eat.
I’d grown to dislike feedings because it only meant that I’d be inflicting a little more pain on Ever. Seeing Lucas but realizing she was helpless to his cause always burdened her. But, as out of touch with reality as she was, I refused to allow her to let go of the one thing that kept her in contact with the light at the end of the long, dark tunnel. Breastfeeding was a glimmer of hope for her and the one time she was able to feel useful.
Besides, she’d hate herself if she allowed her milk to dry by the time she came out of this cycle she was in and Lucas was forced to depend on shelved milk. It would destroy her. So, for preventative measures – though very hard – I made sure she kept her milk flowing and Lucas fed.
THREE
“Eh. Eh. Eh. Ehhhhhhhh!”Lucas cried.
He had a healthy set of lungs on him that I knew would disturb his mother so I rushed to his side and picked him up. His little eight-week-old body settled into my arms, fitting perfectly as I began my journey down the hallway where we’d find the source to his aching stomach.
As what could only be described as too soon, we arrived and I was burdened with the most unpleasant task of all.Click. I flipped on the light. There she was.
The sight of my thinning wife left another hole in my heart each day that I witnessed her. Eating was last on her list. Sleep was her best friend and tears had become her favorite beverage. She drank them daily as they slid down her face and reproduced them from her eyes at a moment’s notice.
