Katrina brings me another blanket and shows me to the nursery. “Because he rests peacefully, right? He doesn’t wake every half hour in panic. In misery. In agony. Not the way we do.”
These are just hard truths. Shitty facts we’re going to have to live with.
I nod. “We’ll live with this loss forever. The pain will always be there, but we will adapt.”
We’ll make our Super Bowls.
“Yes.” She takes a steadying breath and bites her lip, controlling the sobs that threaten to erupt.
I know that move well. It mostly works, but not always. Today, however, Katrina is able to let a bit of a smile win.
“There’s no telling where I’d be without this little guy. Tommy is saving me.”
The chair has luxurious pillows, and it’s only just before I sit that I process the print on them.
“Polar bears?” I whisper.
“Of course, polar bears.”
Katrina bends over and smooths a hand over her child’s head, his cheek, then straightens out his pajamas and the blanket Iwrapped him in. After drawing the curtains closed to darken the room, she turns on a cute lighted mobile.
“How about some lullabies?” she asks.
Without needing an answer, she hits a few buttons, sets a stack of books down, and steps out, leaving the room softly aglow.
I rock, and rock, and rock this sweetheart, stupefied by Katrina’s generosity.
After I’m nearly unconscious, the door inches open, and Dave tiptoes in. He sits down and watches me—and me with Tommy-—for a while.
And so I watch him back. The way he just enjoys seeing me hold this toddler, but somehow not exuding any pressure on us. He’s just happy that I’m happy.
“I like this. More than I thought,” I confess. “Sure because this is Patrick’s little guy. But also because I just like it. Because I think I might not be a nightmare parent.”
“You’d, of course, be an incredible mother, but it’s nice to know you see that as a possibility for yourself. If you decide that’s what you might want.”
“For the first time, I’m thinking that maybe my horrible, nutty, neglectful parents could have accidentally raised their total opposite.”
Maybe I can be more than my shitty upbringing. Without realizing it, maybe I have already healed in the ways that I need to.
“Want me to take him?” Dave reaches out. “Trade?”
I really don’t. “No, but yes.”
Handing over Patrick’s kid is harder than I thought, but I do so because I didn’t realize how tired my arms had gotten until I budged.
Dave gently takes Tommy from me and passes me theMake Way for Ducklingsbook. “I saw your arms shaking. He’s likelydown for the night, but I figure I can take a few minutes, right?” He settles into the polar bear chair.
“This one might have to be followed up with reading another book. Or five.” I settle onto the floor and wrap my arms around my legs. “Even if he’s asleep?”
“Even if he’s asleep,” he agrees.
I look at the polar bear cushions on the chair and smile at my memories from the trip I took with Patrick. Remembering makes me want to cry. But then I wonder about doing that crazy upgraded version of the trip, and I smile. Dave would love it.
“Are we done with hard rains?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“For now.” Dave answers me truthfully. “But there will inevitably be more.”
At least I know it’s possible to survive pain, and trauma, and crippling grief.
