Page 144 of Falling in Love with Two

“I’ve had five kids, remember?”

I follow her into the living room, and we sit down.

“Leah, what’s going on? Where’s Dylan?”

“He had to go to work. I thought I would be fine, but clearly, I have no idea what I’m doing, and Luna realizes how terrible of a mom I am.”

She pats my knee. “Oh, honey. It’s totally normal to feel that way.”

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. I know that most women probably have these motherly instincts that kick in, and they know what their baby wants.”

Her eyes narrow in on me. “I don’t think that ever happens. Or at least not very often. Learning how to be a mom isn’t as easy as flipping a switch.”

“You sure? Because you’re like Supermom.”

“I didn’t start out that way. When we first brought Liz home, I was a mess. Don’t tell anyone this because I will completely deny it, but I dropped her.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Really. I had her on my chest on the couch. I was so sleep-deprived that I fell asleep for only a split second, but it was enough for her to roll off onto the floor. She started wailing, and I held her for the next twenty-four hours straight, convinced that I had hurt her. She cried for maybe five minutes, but I cried for hours. For the first few weeks, I questioned every decision I made as a mom.”

“How did you get over it?” I sniffle.

“I don’t know that you ever really get over it. There’s always that nagging voice in the back of your mind that wonders if you’re doing the right thing. But you have to just go with your gut. Don’t think about things too much. You know what’s best for your baby. Right now, your doubt is just speaking louder than your gut.”

“How do I get it to shut up enough to listen to my gut?”

“First, you need to go take a shower. No offense, but you look like hell. Let the hot water wash away the negativity.”

I don’t take offense to it. I know I look like ten miles of bad road, so I leave Luna with her while I go take a shower. I have to admit that it feels amazing, and taking my time does make me feel somewhat better.

When I join Suzanne back in the living room, I see that she’s feeding Luna a bottle of formula.

“Don’t be mad,” she says. “She was just hungry.”

“I’m not mad,” I reply. “Not at you anyway. I’m upset with myself that I’m not able to breastfeed her. Don’t they always say that breastfed babies are smarter and healthier?”

“Eh, I don’t think that’s true. Liz is the only one of my kids that I breastfed, and look at her. She makes my lie extremely difficult.”

“Maybe it’s because you dropped her on her head,” I joke.

She laughs. “Good point. Look, after Liz, I just wasn’t able to produce anymore. I felt awful, but I realized that fed is best. Doesn’t matter how they get there.”

She looks down at Luna before continuing. “But you have got to stop being so hard on yourself. Give your body some credit. It just got done making a whole perfect little person. It’s okay to give it a break and supplement some formula. She will be just fine.”

“I just don’t want to mess up.”

“Sweetie, you’re not going to mess her up. When you are alone and freaking out, you just need to breathe. Realize that she looks at you like you are the sun and the stars. Have a little bit of confidence in yourself, and she will follow suit.”

“What if I’m still struggling?”

“Then, you call me. Or Liz. Or Michelle. Or hell, even Andre. We will be here in minutes, and we will help however we can.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “You all have been so great with me.”

“No need to thank us, honey. You’re family.”

Out of everything she just said, those are the most comforting words of all.

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