“Like that you think I’m a good mom. But I’m not like the other moms. The ones who still smile on the hard days, see the bright side of everything and manage to embrace it all. I don’t, Cody!” she cries. “I lose my cool, cry, feel like screaming at her half the time. My favorite time of the days are when she’s asleep. When I can sit, do nothing, and stare out the window. I get so irritated when she wakes up. No nap is ever long enough. I’m still always left feeling unmotivated and like she is the biggest bother to me. And the worst part…the worst part is that through finding my faith and trying to understand and pray more and read the Bible more, it’s worse! Everything’s getting worse!”
That hits me hard, so hard that I don’t even know what to say.
Her breath hitches and more tears fall. “Emma deserves better.”
I grab her and pull her against me so tight, wishing it could fix everything. Everything she feels and thinks…I wish I could make it all just disappear.
Her body shakes against me, trembling, crying. It strikes me in such a way that I start tearing up too. I wish I knew what to say, but I don’t. I don’t have a damn clue. The best thing I’ve got to offer right now is this hug.
“And all of these moms—” Her voice breaks.
“What moms?” I whisper, hand rubbing her back.
“All of them. Ella, Sierra, social media, church, all of them. They just have this glow, like having kids is what made them the best version of themselves, and I’mnot. I’m the worst version of myself I’ve ever been.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes I am. I hate feeling like this, I hate how I look, I hate how I think. I hate it.”
I rub her back, taking a hard swallow. Searching for words, the right words to say, anything to help.
“I wish you would’ve told me it was this bad,” I mumble, gently pulling her off my chest just enough to see her face.
She’s a wreck. And honestly, I’m not much better. But I use the edge of my thumb to wipe the tears off her cheeks, then press a kiss to the side of her face.
“I didn’t want you to think I was too much,” she whispers. “Didn’t want you to stop loving me just because I’m…unstable.”
“Karissa.” I take a breath. “You’re never too much. And you’ve been unstable since the night I met you.”
She almost smiles, but I keep her eyes on mine.
“I’ve already loved you through some of the hardest moments of your life. This changes nothing.” I lean in, kissing her lips, which are wet and salty with her tears.
I glance toward Emma in the swing, still asleep. She has no idea her mom’s breaking just a few feet away. That kills me.
“I’m gonna help you, alright? Tomorrow, I’ll call the doctor. We’ll figure this out.”
My hand settles on her arm, my thumb moving in slow, steady circles. “And I’m still planning on marrying you one day. Okay?”
Her lips tremble, but she nods.
Chapter 35
Cody
We’re halfway through the season now, November settling in with its cold mornings and shorter days. I’ve found a rhythm—if you can call it that—a balance between work and making sure I’m there for Karissa and Emma. Most nights after scouting, I drive straight over. Not every night, but almost. I’ll take Emma so Karissa can shower and eat without rushing, then half the time I’m the one rocking her to sleep.
After that, Karissa and I usually just sit, sometimes talking, sometimes not. Just being there feels like enough.
She’s been doing a little better. Therapy helps, I think. Once a week she’s either on a video call in the bedroom with the door shut, or, if someone can watch Emma, she’ll go in person. Depends on the day.
It also seems to have helped that Emma turned a corner. She’s almost six months old now and able to sit up and do more with toys and such. She’s happier, she’s not eating as frequently, she’s not waking as much in the night. I’m praying this is all she needed, that it was just the age.
The sun hasn’t come up yet. I’ve been coming by in the mornings too, to keep the woodstove going. Except today, it looks like she thought she’d get ahead of it for me.
I open the woodstove door to find one full-size log sitting on all the ashes with some kindling. Not a single hot coal in sight.
I glance to Karissa over on the couch, nursing and then hopefully going back to bed.
