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Breast feeding is an interesting experience, it’s not pleasant but it’s not unbearable either. Fortunately the little bundle gets the hang of it immediately. I love him. He’s perfect.
I should be embarrassed that I’m sat almost naked in nothing but a gown in front of strangers with one of my breasts hanging out. But after that ordeal, I just don’t care.
“We still don’t have a name for him,” I groan and rest my head back against Nathan’s shoulder.
“We haven’t really discussed it,” Nathan says thoughtfully. “I thought you’d already chosen one.” I shake my head in response. “Are you not naming him after his father?”
Good question. “I… I don’t want to call him Caleb.”
“We’ll figure it out, there’s no rush,” Nathan kisses the curve of my neck. “You were amazing.”
“You were loud,” Jeanine jokes, I give her a playful scowl and look down at my son.
Caleb should be here for this. He’d love him. I can just imagine how excited he would have been, if he were here. But he’s not here and this little boy will never get to experience his daddy.
My heart breaks as I grieve my son’s loss for him. My fingertips move over his chubby, rosy cheek. I’ve never felt a love so intense before, I can feel it in the very centre of my soul.
“Let me take him for a while,” Jeanine says when my son finishes feeding. “Nathan, go and run her a bath.”
“Am I not going into the hospital?” I blink in shock and stare at my doctor.
“No,” he responds with a smile. “You’re both healthy and fine, it’s not necessary. I’ll be staying in the village anyway, I’m only a phone call away.”
“You’ll need to purchase a set of skis. I don’t feel comfortable letting her stay home after that ordeal. What if she haemorrhages or collapses or something worse?”
Dr Meadows places his hand on Nathan’s shoulder, “I assure you, she’ll be fine. We’re classing this as a home birth. I have no concerns.”
“I’m fine Nathan,” I croak as I hand the baby to Jeanine. “I’m just tired.”
He seems to relent but doesn’t look happy about it. “Fine. Jeanine can you see them out?” I’m carefully lifted so I wrap my arms around Nathan’s neck and hold on tight as he carries me up the stairs. “You feel so light now.”
I smile and rest my head against his neck. “Sorry about the mess.”
“Don’t, it’s not your fault.”
A yawn tears its way up my throat. Nathan places me on the closed toilet, in the bathroom that I use, and crouches down beside the bath. The room fills with steam as the tap pours hot water into the large tub.
“Are you okay?” Nathan asks me for the twentieth time since I gave birth. “That looked like it hurt.”
I give him a look, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. “It did.”
“We’ll be quick, I fear Jeanine may kidnap our son.” He laughs.
Our? “Our?”
“What?” He looks at me over his shoulder, his eyes tired and full of emotion.
I blink and ask warily, “You said our.”
“What are you talking about?” He looks completely oblivious. Maybe he didn’t mean to say it.
“You said, our son.”
“No I didn’t,” he frowns and shakes his head. “I said your son.”
“I heard you…”
“You’re tired,” he points out. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I know he’s not mine and now isn’t the time to argue about this.”
Maybe he’s right. I probably misheard him. Sigh. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” he stands before me and slowly begins to slide the gown off my shoulders. “It’s warm enough now.”
I give him a pointed look and with my hand, I point to the door.
“I’m not leaving you right now, I’ve just seen you naked.”
Scowl. “This is different.”
“No it isn’t, I’m not leaving this room. I refuse.”
“Please?” The pleading in my tone causes him to relent.
He sighs, nods and takes a step back, “Fine, but I’ll be sat out here. Okay?”
I thank him and carefully step into the bath once he’s gone. The water stings my core but it also feels amazing.
I’ve just had a baby.
I’ve just had Caleb’s baby.
Emotions overwhelm me, emotions I should have felt the moment my child was placed in my arms. Sorrow, loss, pain, frustration, anger. So many emotions. Too tired to sift through them properly.
I bring my knees to my chest, happy that I can finally do this for the first time in months and cry into the top of them. Tears spill and mix with the dampness on my cheeks, sobs tear through me, quiet ones. I want to scream, I want to shout but I don’t.
My body feels empty and I don’t just mean the sudden lack of baby. I mean all over. There’s love there, an instant bond I formed with my son on first glimpse, but that hole that Caleb left behind only seems to have stretched further.
