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I inched toward the side of the bed where I sat. As I laid Lucas beside her, Ever clenched the pillow she was hugging a little tighter. I remembered a short time ago when she hugged me like that… when I was her pillow.
“I’m sorry,” she cried.
“Shhhhh.”
“I just can’t free myself,” she admitted.
“It’s okay. Come on.”
After standing up, I leaned over the bed and sat her up against the headboard. Even that was too much of a task for my baby. I pushed aside the part of her shirt that was meant to be lowered for nursing to expose her beautiful breast. I missed them so much. I missed her so much.
I returned to my spot on side of her and cleaned her face of tears. When I felt that she was ready, I reached over and grabbed our son. Ever closed her eyes, too consumed with her own disappointment to fully accept Lucas.
“Look at him, love,” I encouraged.
“He barely even knows me,” she sighed, tears streaming down her face, again.
“You’re all he knows, Ever,” I explained.
Lucas felt the absence of his mother. At only eight weeks, she was everything to him. Her lack of presence was the main reason it was hard to get him to quiet, sleep, or get through the day without being swaddled tightly.
“I’m useless,” she told me, finally opening her eyes.
“You’re sick, Ever. There’s a difference. Your son needs you. The girl needs you.I need you, mommas.”
“I just don’t feel so good, Luca.”
“I know.”
Not wanting to overwhelm her, I decided to let the topic rest. It was the same thing day after day. Instead of continuing the conversation, I allowed her to gaze at our handsome son. My heart smiled when she mustered the courage to lift and finger and move the patch of his long hair from near his eyes.
Our eyes locked when the familiar sound of discomfort erupted from his quivering lips.
“He’s hungry,” I explained, hoping to cancel any thoughts in her head that formed about his displeasure for her presence.
“Here, let him fill his tummy,” I insisted, pulling the pillow over and positioning Lucas on it so that Ever didn’t have to hold him. She rarely ate a bite of her food on a daily basis and simply didn’t have the strength to manage his weight.
Right away, my greedy boy took to his mother’s boob and began suckling. I watched from afar as Ever stared down at him as he guzzled the milk from her boobs. This was new for her. For us. The slight twinkle of admiration in her orbs that I witnessed, I hadn’t seen since the week after his birth when she began falling into her deep depression.
Still, the painful smug on her face remained. But, that didn’t stop the glimmer of hope that I clung onto when I saw her hand lift again, this time to rub our son’s face and then the hair on his head. Though a small gesture, it was progress for us all.
Baby steps. Baby steps. I thought.
FOUR
I could hearhis footsteps long before he entered the room. Silently, I prayed that he wasn’t trying to interest me in food because I didn’t have an appetite. As much as I knew I should, I just couldn’t bring myself to accept food. It only upset my stomach and left me feeling nauseous. Frequent trips to the bathroom weren't ideal for me at the moment. Not even opening my eyes, which was why I hoped he didn’t turn the light on again.
“Ever,” he whispered as he neared the bed.
I imagined he wasn’t expecting an answer because we both knew that I didn’t have it to give. But, I’d heard him. My heart had heard the pain and trauma my situation was causing him. We’d heard him, clearly, even the words he’d never say.
“It’s time for a bath,” he revealed, making my flesh crawl at the thought.
As his large, comforting hand rubbed against my sandy bush, I could feel the chunks of hair as they gathered in his fingers and dislodged from my scalp. When it was all said and done, I wasn’t sure if I’d be left with any of the hair that I once loved so much.
“Cut it,” I said to Luca, finding the words to describe my most prominent feeling at the moment.
“Ever, you don’t mean it.”
