“Smell better, for sure,” I mutter.
He smirks and I settle in the chair across from him, curling my legs under me.
“She cried for a while earlier,” I say after a long pause. “I couldn’t figure out why.”
Cody doesn’t look away from her but he’s listening.
“So I put her down, walked into the kitchen and cried harder than she was,” I admit.
That gets his eyes on me. The memory is still so fresh. I felt like a bad mom. Not because I was overwhelmed, but because I didn’t know what she needed.
I swallow, fighting tears. “I’m not sure I’m doing this right.”
“You’re doing fine,” he assures me.
I shake my head. “No. I mean…I don’t think I like this.”
The words sit between us like something sour.
“I don’t hate her,” I say quickly. “It’s not like that. I’m not mad that she exists. I just…I feel nothing most of the time. Like I’m watching someone else’s baby.”
His brows pull in, but he doesn’t speak yet, just looks away and swallows.
“I keep thinking it’s gonna click—that moment people talk about. That flood of love when you see their face. But I didn’t feel it in the hospital. I didn’t feel it when we got home. And I’m still not feeling it now.”
He says nothing. Just keeps listening.
“Ella said she and Jesse are trying to have another baby. Sierra’s pregnant—don’t tell anyone I told you that—but I don’t get it. I watch how they are with their kids and…I’m just not like them.” I pause, trying to steady my voice, but it still shakes. “I don’t smile when she spits up or bask in the sweetness of breastfeeding. I don’t sit up at night rocking her, thinking how wonderful this is. I’m just not like that, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Cody’s jaw flexes. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Karissa. You aren’t them and you’re doing this alone. Don’t compare yourself to people who were dealt cards from a different deck.”
Tears fall down my face. “But I want to feel that connection. I want to look at her the way they do with theirs. But I don’t, and Emma deserves better than me.”
Cody shakes his head, gently laying Emma on her back before standing. He comes toward me, taking my wrists in his hands, he lifts me from the chair. My arms find their way around him, and he pulls me in, holding me close and steady as ever. All I do is cry harder into his chest.
“You really think you’re a bad mom because you don’t think every moment is great?” he asks after a few seconds.
I sniffle. “No. I think I’m a bad mom because I wish away the moments.”
Cody’s hands shift to my shoulders, gently pulling me back just enough to try and meet my eyes. But I keep my gaze fixed on his chest. If I look up, it’ll feel like he’s seeing too much.
“You are the furthest thing from a bad mom. You show up. Every damn day. And you do your best.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek. “I’m scared I’ll never love her as much I should.” My voice cracks toward the end.
“Look at me,” he says, pulling my chin up between his fingers.
“Love is showing up, and that’s what you’re doing. She loves you, Karissa. She needs you. You’re the best person for her, and that’s why she’s yours. God gave you to each other for a reason. Because you’re exactly who she needs as her mom.”
“I just can’t understand that right now. She deserves to have a mom like Ella or Sierra, or your mom. I don’t—”
“Karissa. Give yourself a break. You’re overwhelmed because you do care. Don’t you get that?” Now his voice is tighter.
I nod, because I guess that makes sense…even if it doesn’t make me feel much better.
“I want you to get a good night’s sleep,” he says. “Let’s pull the bassinet out here. I’ll sleep on the couch and take care of her tonight.”
He carefully brushes a strand of hair off my damp cheek. “Okay?”
