Chasing Us (Dark Love 2)

“Say hello to Mommy.”

The second her face touches mine, I become complete. Her precious skin is so soft as I run my lips over her cheeks. She is tiny and perfect. There are no other words to describe her.

With my vision clouded, I turn to look at Lex. A single tear falls down his face only to be swallowed by the gigantic smile consuming him.

“She is perfect… just like you,” he murmurs.

“Just like her daddy.”

The nurse comes over and explains Amelia needs to be taken to the NICU because she is premature. I don’t argue, nor does Lex. The second she’s taken away, I feel the loss. Okay, Charlie, this is your maternal side kicking in. Just get used to it because life has changed forever.

The days seem a blur. I’m beyond exhausted and trying my best to recover. Thankfully, my vagina is still intact from the cesarean and not looking like a battered lasagna—you can thank Eric for that analogy—but I still feel disabled.

My body aches, painful in different areas, and overall, I feel weak. It takes me a day to get up and pee on my own. Thank the Lord for a catheter. By day two, I feel incredibly gross and ready for a shower.

A simple task like showering is a huge effort. It takes the nurse and Lex to help me. Apparently, my legs decide they can no longer function.

When she leaves us to tend to another mother, I cry in Lex’s arms, overwhelmed by the exhaustion and state of my body. What makes it worse is my fear of seeing the wound. The nurse, thankfully, changes my bandages without me seeing a single thing, but Lex, on the other hand, hovers over her, which she seems to take offense at. Yes, she is like sixty and immune to his looks, unlike the candy stripers who wear their slutty outfits. I swear they visited me more times than any other patient in here. It might have also been the reason why Rocky visits me every day, without Nikki.

I want to say Amelia is the most well-behaved baby in the world, and we are blessed. Wrong.

She won’t latch on. The nurses give me tutorials on breastfeeding, and, frustrated, I wind up crying every time. She screams through the night when other babies sleep. I’m drained both physically and emotionally. Both my boobs and I cry every time she does.

When Lex arrives in the morning with fresh bagels, I cry again.

He’s quick to take Amelia, and in his arms she remains silent for hours on end. In fact, she remains silent for Emily, as well, and everyone else who visits. It’s in those moments alone with me that she turns into a monster baby and finds her voice. I find solace in one of the nurses. She sits down with me and explains the changes in my body, and why I’m a blubbering mess every two seconds. It’s getting beyond ridiculous.

Amelia cries, I cry.

My orange juice spills over my blanket, I cry.

The button fails to work on my bed, I cry.

I’m tired of crying.

“Charlie, you are normal. I was like this, too. You wouldn’t be normal if you aren’t like this,” Nikki says as she rocks Amelia back and forth.

“I don’t remember you being like this…”

“That’s because I held it in, which made it worse because I suffered post-partum depression.”

The memory triggers. “I remember now. Nikki, this feels so hard. Physically, I can barely walk. My boobs have turned into watermelons on steroids, and Amelia won’t stop crying.”

And there go the tears again.

“Charlie, you need to rest, relax, and let Lex help you as much as possible. And, of course, me.”

“Okay, I hear you, what I’m feeling is all normal. I’m just saying it’s no walk in the park, and those stupid Lamaze classes and books did not prepare me for this.”

“They focus on the before not the after. Give it a week, and things will get better. Plus, you’ll get your mojo back.” She winked.

“The last thing I can think about right now is sex. Besides, don’t you have to wait six weeks anyway?”

“Yes, you do. I’m not saying you should have sex, what I’m saying is don’t be surprised when you’re at home and your hormones do a number on you, and all you can think about is hopping on Lex’s dick.”

“Don’t be silly. Don’t judge me by your own slutty standards.”

“Bets are on, Charlie. I give you three days tops before you’re blowing him like a trumpet in an orchestra.”