I trail off, because the rest of the sentence sounds too much like I’m being sensitive, and I don’t want to be that girl. Not right now. Not after everything he’s already done for me.
“Just what?”
“I’m a mom. I have worries and an intuition that you don’t.”
Cody rubs the back of his neck. “I know that. All I was trying to remind you of was that no one touched her.”
“But that doesn’t mean anything,” I snap, and his eyes widen just a hair. “You made me feel stupid.”
He looks at me. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid. I just didn’t think—”
“I know you didn’t,” I say, softer now. “That’s the problem. This whole time, I’m just trying to figure this out and be a good mom, and the second I voiced something I felt off about, you practically laughed.”
“Karissa, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He shakes his head.
I cross my arms loosely. Hearing him apologize so quickly is not something I’m used to, nor was I expecting. I still had more things to say.
“I’ve been telling you to listen to your intuition this entire time, and then I gave you crap for doing it. I’m sorry,” he says again.
I’m not used to hearing a man apologize so quickly. Not just once, but twice…he said ittwice.
I press my lips together and nod. “It’s okay.”
We get out of the truck and head inside, nothing but a sleeping baby between us. Cody’s eyes linger on me, like he wants to say something else but doesn’t at the same time.
“You wanna shower?” His voice is low, almost hesitant, and it undoes me a little.
“Yeah, before she needs to eat again,” I point out, then leave for my bedroom, afraid that if I stay in the same room with him any longer, we’ll end up in another one of those almost-kiss moments, and I don’t trust myself not to let it happen this time.
Chapter 22
Karissa
Cody moved back to his place six days ago. After I had my postpartum appointment, they cleared me to resume everything as normal. We always knew once I was cleared, he’d go back home. Still, a small part of me almost wished they wouldn’t have cleared me. Because honestly, now the silence feels louder than it should.
He’s stopped over briefly all week, but yesterday was the first day I didn’t see him. We talked, texted, but that was it. It’s been strange, being alone again. Strange not having him here. I got used to him, his presence, the way he stepped in to help before I had to ask.
I don’t even know what day it is. I’m tired. Physically, yes, but also mentally. Time feels almost fake and unnecessary.
The nights are rough—nursing, pumping, washing bottles and pump parts, doing laundry all by myself. I feel like a cow. A leaking, saggy-skinned, snack-hungry cow. Someone slap a tag in my ear and call it what it is already.
I lay down on the couch while Emma snoozes across the room in the swing, slowly gliding. The second I close my eyes, I hear crying.
My eyes snap open, only to find her fast asleep and still as a rock.
That’s been happening a lot. At night, usually. I’ll hear her crying, but when I look she’s not. It’s all in my head. Ella mentioned the other day about phantom crying, said it happens to her still.
I close my eyes. Same thing again—phantom crying.
I sit up with a frustrated sigh. I can’t sleep with that in my ear…or mind. Wherever it is.
The Bible on the coffee table catches my eye. Haven’t opened it in a few days. Honestly, haven’t wanted to. Not when I’m in this funk.
They made me fill out some paper at my appointment. Asking me questions like “Have you felt anxious or worried for no good reason?” and “Have you been so unhappy that you have been crying?”
Most of the answers to the questions were yes and I scored higher than your average person, I guess.
I didn’t tell Cody when I got home. I didn’t want him to worry. I think it’s just the stage of transition I’m wrestling with, and once Emma gets a little bigger, things will be better.
