She finally fell back asleep twenty minutes ago, just long enough for my body to relax, and then one of the dogs barked and started the cycle all over again.
I don’t cry, even though I want to. I’m too tired for tears. My chest is sore, my head is pounding, and I’ve reheated the same cup of coffee three times, though I still haven’t had more than a few sips.
It’s only been two weeks. Two weeks of hunting season. I’ve been helping Maureen and Addie do food prep and meals for some extra income. It’s been nice, aside from days like these when I feel like a zombie.
While I knew this was happening—Cody told me, warned me, even…said the season gets intense, that it’s all-hands-on-deck, that sleep gets weird and days blur together for even him—I don’t think I fully understood how accurate that would be.
I set Emma down in her bouncer, hoping she’ll stay content long enough for me to brush my teeth and get ready to take her to her four-month checkup.
I see myself in the mirror for the first time today. There are dark circles under my eyes. My hair is frizzy, up in a rat’s nest ofa knot. I have milk stains on my green T-shirt and spit-up on my shoulder.
There’s a knock on the front door and I freeze. It’s not Cody. I would’ve heard his truck. Emma stirs but doesn’t cry, thank God. I sneak to the door, crack it open, and there stands Ella in scrubs. Her car is still running just behind her.
“Hey,” she says, a little breathless. “Didn’t mean to barge in, just wanted to drop this off before work.” She hands over a small paper bag. “It’s banana bread. If you think it’s bad, then I definitely did not make it,” she jokes.
I laugh. “I’m sure it’s great. Thank you!”
As she responds, Emma starts crying. Not crying, actually…screaming. The screaming that rattles the inside of my eardrum so bad it makes me want to scream too.
“Uh…sorry,” I say as I go and scoop her up. “She’s fussy this morning.”
“Cora didn’t sleep through the night till six months. I lived on protein bars, frozen pizza, and coffee.”
I huff out something between a laugh and a sigh. “That’s too far away.”
“I know.” Ella tilts her head, rubbing Emma’s chubby leg. Then her gaze comes back to me, and her tone gentles. “You doing okay, other than that?”
The question nearly breaks me.
Because no one’s asked like this before…not face-to-face, in a quiet moment where the tears have room to fall. I open my mouth to answer, but nothing else comes out.
Ella doesn’t hesitate to hug me, both arms wrapped around me like they’ll make everything better. Boy, I wish they did.
“I know it’s…a lot,” she says. “Cora goes to the hospital daycare, and I know how lucky I am to have that. I don’t take it for granted.”
“I don’t have that option,” I admit quietly, even though I know she already knows that. “I didn’t know how lonely it would get.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. Truly. I want to help. If you don’t mind me bringing Cora over sometime, I can hang out while you shower or do whatever you need.”
The lump in my throat tightens. “Yeah, I’ll let you know. Thank you.”
She brushes Emma’s cheek. “Good. I gotta get to work now, but I’ll see you Sunday?”
“Yeah,” I lie, and watch her get in her car.
I haven’t been to church in two weeks.
Haven’t wanted to be around people who look like they love their lives. Who beam when their toddler throws a sippy cup and somehow find the silver lining in spit-up on their dress. The moms with the matching church outfits or perfectly curled hair, with their husband and four or five kids lined down the pew beside them.
Meanwhile, myoneinfant runs me through a twenty-four-hour circus.
Emma cries and I get filled with irritation. She laughs and I feel guilty for not being able to enjoy it more. Imagining signing up for another…for more kids, more nights like this, more weeks of feeling like a ghost in my own skin?
It feels like a death sentence.
And Cody…he didn’t pressure me to go to church, or ask for a reason why I didn’t want to. I know he thinks it’s because I’m too tired. But if he’d ask, I’d break down. Admitting I feel this broken and terrible for not wanting to be around other moms? I thought church would be a place that felt like a refuge, a safe place, but for me, it feels like a place where I have to perform. And I can’t right now.
And maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s wrong. But I know God has grace to give. So I guess I just hope that even if I’m not saying it out loud, He’ll see me anyway, whether I’m there or not.
