Chapter 5: My New Normal
Allie
I woke to the sound of Gracie crying. I stumbled out of bed and rushed to the nursery, hoping I could get to her before she woke up Alex. As that thought slid into my conscious mind, I came to a sudden stop in the hallway. Alex. For the briefest of moments, my sleep-muddled brain had forgotten our new reality, and the fresh wave of grief that hit me threatened to pull me under with its intensity. At that moment, my mother opened the door of the guest room, and startled at the sight of me standing there in the hallway.
"Oh, honey, go back to bed and try to get some more sleep. Your dad and I will take care of the baby this morning." She started to pass by me, then stopped and peered at my face more closely. "What's wrong?" she asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, she popped her head back into the guest room and I heard her ask my dad to take care of Gracie. She put a gentle arm around my shoulders and guided me back toward my bedroom.
"Get in bed, honey, you look like you're about to fall over," she said with concern as she sat me down on the side of the bed. I scooted back and leaned up against the headboard, then grabbed Alex's pillow and clutched it tight to my chest. "Tell me what's wrong," she repeated, as she settled the blanket over my legs.
"I woke up and...Gracie was...and I...forgot. I forgot. I forgot, for just a minute, and then I remembered, and it's too much! I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I want my husband. I want Alex. It's not fair!" My jumbled words ended on a scream, tears streaming down my face.
"This is not supposed to happen. Alex should be here. I need my husband. Grace needs her daddy. We're supposed to live happily ever after. We're supposed to..." my voice faltered, as the cold hard truth started to sink in again. It doesn't matter what was supposed to happen. The only thing that mattered is what did happen. I was here, my baby was here, and my husband was gone - and I would have to figure out how to live with that.
"Oh, sweetheart," my mom said softly. She sat down next to me and wrapped her arms around me, while I laid my head on her shoulder, sobbing. She rubbed circles on my back with one hand, while the other brushed over my hair repeatedly. My sobs eventually slowed to gentle tears, then sniffles and shuddering breaths, before I finally stopped.
After seven long months of fear, anger, and uncertainty, I thought that I had finally cried myself out. For the moment anyway. I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled into the attached bath to blow my nose and splash cold water on my face. I washed my hands, glancing up at myself in the mirror. My face was red and blotchy, and my eyes were so puffy and swollen I could barely see out of them. A pretty crier, I was not.
Mom came to the doorway and offered, "Let me get you a cold cloth for your eyes. You go lie down again, and I'll bring it to you."
"Thanks, Mom, but I really should go check on Grace."
"Your dad can handle your baby for a bit longer. You let me take care of my baby for a little while," she said firmly.
I leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you and Dad."
After my breakdown, I was mentally drained. I managed to sleep for another hour or so, then got up to make my way to the shower. I shampooed and conditioned my hair and washed my body on autopilot. My mind had shut down, and I didn't have the energy to think about anything. After I dried off, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair out, I threw on a pair of yoga pants and an old Storm Front T-shirt, and piled my still damp hair on top of my head in a messy bun.
Glancing at myself in the mirror, I wasn't impressed. I was only twenty-five, but I looked several years older at that moment. Grief and the stress of the last seven months had taken its toll on me. I wondered idly if I would ever return to my normal self.
I followed the sound of my dad’s rumbling voice and Gracie's soft giggles to the kitchen, where I found them both sitting at the table. Gracie was in her highchair, pulled up right next to her grandpa’s seat at the end of the table. She let out an excited "Ma", followed by a string of unintelligible babble when she saw me, and banged her spoon repeatedly against the tray of the highchair. Dad smiled, and gently reached out to take the spoon from his granddaughter, who was demonstrating a distinct lack of rhythm with her makeshift drum kit. Matt, Storm Front's drummer, would have been appalled.
"Good morning, sweet pea," I said with a sad smile, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Based on the Cheerios on the floor and the bits of scrambled egg on your tray- and stuck in your hair - I'm guessing your grandpa fed you breakfast?
"MaMaMaMa" she repeated, kicking her feet, and bouncing in her seat with glee.
"I'll take that as a yes," I said, as I made my way over to the stove. Grabbing the tea kettle, I filled it with water, and turned it on to boil. I reached into the cabinet and randomly selected a mug. It had been a gift from Josh, who had seen it in an airport gift shop and had wanted me to have it for my mug collection. It had a picture of a rising sun and a message which said"Well, here we fucking go again...I mean, Good Morning."It seemed oddly appropriate for my mood this morning.
I had an entire cabinet full of mugs here, several at the office, and even a few at the recording studio. Most had funny pictures or sayings, many of which would be considered adult humor. Luckily, my working environment wasn't as conservative as most offices were, so no one even raised an eyebrow at even my most outrageous mugs.
Mom bustled into the kitchen with a laundry basket perched on her hip, on her way through to the laundry room. "Sit down, honey. I'll make you something to eat as soon as I start this load of towels."
"Thanks Mom, but I'm not really hungry. I'll just have some tea, and maybe make something in a little while."
Dad put down his e-reader and frowned at me over the top of his glasses. "I know you don't feel like eating, sweetheart, but you need to."
"I know, but I really don't -"
He raised his hand to interrupt me. "I know you don't want to, but you need to, and you will." He sighed deeply and took his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose the way he always did when he was choosing his words carefully.
"You have to start taking care of yourself. You aren't eating, you aren't sleeping, and I understand. I do. I know this has been hell on you." He reached across the table and took hold of my hand. "But you need to understand that you can't go on like this. It isn't healthy for you, and it isn't good for Grace. She needs you. Your Mom and I will help you in any way we can, and you need to let us, because I have to tell you, baby girl, I don't think I can take one more day watching you waste away."
I lowered my gaze, unable to face the look of worry in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I whispered.
Dad reached over to gently take hold of my chin, "Look at me, sweetheart". I tearfully met his gaze. "You have nothing to apologize for. But you will eat, at least a little something for each meal today. Then you will eat a little more for each meal tomorrow. Then you will keep doing that every day until you find your new normal. I promise, you will get there. I won't pretend it will be easy, but you will get there, and your mother and I will be with you every step of the way to make sure it happens, OK?" He asked, with reassuring smile.
I leaned over to hug his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He hadn't shaved yet, and his whiskers were a little scratchy.
"OK, Daddy. I'll eat, just as soon as I get the scrambled egg bits out of Gracie's hair." I turned to look at my daughter, who was wriggling around in her highchair, obviously ready to get down. "You're a hot mess this morning, Gracie-girl."
