“Hey,” I cut in gently, stepping toward her. “That’s what I’m here for.”
She shakes her head, like this is the most humiliating thing she’s ever been a part of. “I don’t feel human,” she whispers.
I take the towel from her hand before she can argue and use it to wipe her clean, then the floor. After that, I help her finish getting dressed slowly, carefully, like if I rush I might hurt her.
When she’s dressed, I step behind her and tell her to look down. I drape the towel over her head like I’ve seen Addison do, then gently gather all her damp hair inside it. I twist it, bring it back toward me, and let it lay.
She lifts her head, eyes flicking to the mirror. I’m expecting at least a hint of a smile when she sees I didn’t completely butcher the job, but her reflection stays somber, and I can’t shake the way it hits me, that even something this small can’t pull her out of whatever she’s feeling.
“I feel disgusting.”
“You’re not.” I shake my head.
She looks down, ashamed, like if she could disappear, she would.
“I hate that you have to see me like this.”
“Tough,” I murmur, brushing a damp curl back from her forehead that I must’ve missed.
“I didn’t know the extent of what it’s like after birth. I didn’t know it would be like this. I didn’t—”
“I didn’t either,” I interject. “But it is what it is.” I shrug. “It’s not going to be like this forever; you will heal.”
Chapter 17
Karissa
It’s the second night home.
The first one? I wouldn’t even call that one a night; there was no sleeping. Just a constant cycle of feeding Emma, changing her, trying to settle her, then finally closing my eyes…only to start all over again.
Cody helped with everything he could. And without him, I would’ve cried a lot more than just once. I still remember the way he handed me a tissue, brushed my hair back, and said, “This will get better. She’s just new to the world.”
It meant everything to me. The way he said it was so gentle and so honest.
Going into tonight, we have a plan. I’m only going to nurse every other feeding so he can feed her what I pumped during the day. That way we’ll hopefully only have to be up twice each. That is, if she doesn’t fuss too much in between feedings.
I wake to a soft grunt from the bassinet beside me. The beginnings of a cry. My stomach aches as I move, reminding me to take it slow as I ease up onto my elbows, then roll slightly to sit up.
I reach over and carefully scoop Emma into my arms. It’s not that graceful but I manage it.
By the time I get settled back against my pillows, she’s halfway to screaming. My oversized T-shirt is stained with milk, but I ignore that and start feeding her before my brain explodes. Her screeching rattles my eardrum so much more in the night than during the day.
As I sit here and listen to the ceiling fan creak, it hits me…no one had to help me this time. I did it all myself.
I brush my fingers gently over her arm and then over her hair and cheek. Then the door creaks open.
Cody steps in, running a hand over his face, followed by a yawn. He’s shirtless again, tattoos scattered up his biceps and stretched across that wide chest of his.
I almost throw the sheet up over me while I nurse, but over the course of the last few days, there’s not a single part of me Cody hasn’t seen. I have absolutely no reason to hide a damn thing from this man.
“You good?” he asks, voice low.
I nod. “She’s hungry.”
He takes another step closer. “You did it all yourself?” he asks, almost like he doesn’t believe it.
“Yeah.” I manage a small smile. “Somehow.”
