Great. Another expense, and I’d just put myself on leave. Not good.
“She’s starting to act a little fussy right around this time of day,” Daria said.
We shared a look between us. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.
“Mmmhmm,” Daria said. “The ‘C’ word.” I closed my eyes and nodded, worried that the late afternoon crying spells might potentially be turning into the dreaded witching hours of colic. Rosie was nearly three weeks old now and had only just begun figuring out that nighttime is the time for sleeping, and day for being awake. But now this.
“You look terrible.” Daria eyed me with concern. “You hire someone yet?”
I nodded. “Dylan starts tomorrow.” I tried to make my tone cheery, but it was hard to fake. There’d been one further locums candidate to consider, but their references had been weak. At least with Dylan, I knew my patients would get good care. I only wished that I could shake the feeling that he was here for some other reason. And I hoped that reason wasn’t me.
I could have gone further and told her that on the other hand, I definitely wanted Adam, whom I hadn’t seen for over a week. I thought of him often, especially in the middle of the night when I was feeding and changing and repeating that for what felt like a million times. I didn’t need his help, but I wished for his calming presence, his jokes, and his constant ideas to solve any problem.
I missedhim.
Daria rested a hand on my arm and looked me over with a wise expression that she often wore. I felt like she could read straight through my forced cheer and straight into my brain. “Atthis point, it doesn’t matter what you think of your ex,” she said slowly and carefully. “You needed a warm body. It’s a matter of survival. But you know that, right?”
I gave her a little smile. She’d summed this entire situation up perfectly in two words:warm body. And she’d been smart enough not to mention her son.
I gave her a little squeeze. “Thank you for caring. I get it.” I let her out and then walked into Rosie’s room to find her crying lustily at enough decibels to make me want to slap my hands over both ears.
“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” I crooned in my most calming voice, which didn’t even cause a stutter in the loud and rhythmicwaah-waah-waahsthat felt like a drum beat vibrating through my body. She was drawing her little legs up, clenching her fists tightly, and waving her arms.
For a tiny little thing, she had a lot of intense energy. I wished I could bottle a little of it for myself because the past few weeks had been a hurricane of excitement, stress, and now exhaustion.
How many times a week did I counsel parents on colic? I knew all the signs, symptoms, and theories of this mysterious malady that struck infants at around two to three weeks and kept going strong for up to three months. But I’d never experienced it in living color.
I picked her up and tried to follow my own advice.Walk with her. Rock her. Put on soothing music or white noise. Swaddle her. Take her on a car ride.
For the next hour after Daria left, I did everything on the list but the last one. Nothing worked. I was wishing that I could pull the batteries for a break. Press the off button. Change the channel.Anything.
My phone went off with a text.Adam!I immediately thought. Just a little message to make me smile. Maybe a repost from harried new parents on Instagram who’d managed to put afunny spin on the nightmares of babyhood. Something to let me know that he was out there thinking of me as I was of him.
But it was Dylan.Hey,the text read.Pen and Helen got me acquainted with the office. Maybe we could have dinner tomorrow and I could fill you in on your patients.
Great that he’d gone to the office. But I hardly needed updates after my first day off.
My phone pinged with another text. Dylan yet again.P.S. Spoke to Daria earlier - If Baby R is colicky, I know some great techniques. Call me.
“I won’t call you,” I said in an aggressive tone to the phone before I collapsed onto the couch with Rosie on my shoulder. That made her cry even more, so I somehow managed to haul both of us back up. This time I put her belly down in my arms and walked around, rocking her horizontally back and forth.
No luck with that either.
I was worn down, in a haze of sleep deprivation. I wasn’t sure how long I could continue the demanding insanity of infant care without some kind of break.
I wanted to wail right along with her.
I didn’t ever want to get to the point where I took my frustration out on the baby.
Even worse, with my tiredness and frustration, all my doubts came surging back. I couldn’t do this alone. How could anyone? My knowledge about babies was all on paper, not based on real-life experience, which made me feel like I knew next to nothing. What had I been thinking?
I needed help. I needed bodies. I needed a fricking real maternity leave because I was a working single parent of a newborn and teetering on the edge. This arrangement with Dylan could last a few weeks at best, because it came with a loss of my income. I had remodeling bills, furniture bills, babysupplies bills, everything all at once. My temporary time off came at a great price.
I was stewing in worry and wondering if something else was wrong with Rosie when the doorbell rang.
Not now. Please, not now.
Had Dylan actually had the balls to march right on over here? If he had, I wasn’t going to mince words. He needed to know that we had a business arrangement only.
