Page 145 of Things We Burn

Was it safe to have caffeine while breastfeeding? I searched my brain for the information, but all there seemed to be inside of it was that toy monkey playing the drums over and over again.

“You don’t need to come down the stairs,” Kane argued, breaking my mind-monkey’s rhythm. “We’ve got you.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Lounge around in bed all day?”

“I wouldn’t call it lounging; I think they call itrecovering from having a baby,” Kane said dryly. “Remember the triple five rule? Five days in bed, five days on the bed and five days near the bed.”

Even though the concept of bed seemed incredibly enticing right then, I knew from the previous night that bed did not equate sleep. And feeling stuck in a horizontal position when I wasn’t sleeping, even if I was recovering, made my toes itch.

“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” I snapped. “I’m not spending ten days in bed.”

I hadn’t spent longer than one day in bed in my whole adult life, and that was when I had walking pneumonia, which interestingly, it is quite hard to walk around with.

Kane looked like he was going to argue, but my mother stepped in.

“Darling, Kane said you had a hard night and you didn’t sleep,” she deftly changed the subject. “Are you okay?”

The simple question asked in a genuine, loving and concerned tone, mixed with my mother’s caring gaze and all the other ingredients in the postpartum soup made me, to my horror, burst into tears.

My mother scurried over to envelop me in her arms. I held onto her and let my tears come. I felt exceedingly small and weak and helpless.

“Oh, darling.” My mother stroked my head, emotion bursting from her voice. “It’s the baby blues. You’re going to get just a touch if you’re lucky, although even a touch feels like you’ve been run over by a freight train.” She kissed my temple, brushed away my tears.

“It doesn’t help that you haven’t slept a wink,” she added.

“I couldn’t,” I half sobbed, struggling to get myself under control. “She needed me. It seemed like the only thing I could do was put her on my boob, and I don’t even think she got anything.”

Maisie came over, cradling Mabel as she reached out to rub my arm. “It’s just her stimulating your milk production. It’ll ease up when it comes in. Well, until cluster feeding, but we won’t talk about that right now.”

My eyes bugged out. “Yes, let’s talk about that right now,” I demanded. I looked at Kane, eyeing me over his coffee cup with concern. “Where’s your notebook? We’re getting all the information.

“Sweetie, take a breath,” Mom cooed. “You don’t need all the information right now.”

“I do,” I argued. “I need all of the information. Because I can’t do this. I can’t be an amazing mother like you two.” I waved my hands at them. “I can’t do any of it.”

To my horror, more tears streamed down my face.

“Babe, when you first walked into a professional kitchen, did you know how to make a consommé?” Maisie asked, transferring Mable to her capable father’s arms.

I frowned at her, interested that she even knew what a consommé was. “No, not really.”

“Exactly,” she said, gently walking me to the breakfast nook. “You don’t know anything about being a mother because it is yourvery first day.” She sat me down. “This is not something you’re expected to be an expert in. Not that there is such a thing as being an expert mother. This is something you mold into. And you will. For now, let me and Mom make you food, enjoy the sunrise, watch the ocean and hold her. That’s all she needs. The rest will come.”

My sister spoke calmly, sagely, as if she were the one who was six years older. She’d always brought the younger sister energy with her energetic soul. But then, I saw her for what she was: mother of two, a caretaker.

I’d always thought of ‘mother’ as an ordinary title. It was one of the most common in the world after all. Almost anyone could be it, do it. Or so I’d thought. I was beginning to realize it was the most specialized title one could have, something so beyond ordinary it was a joke.

I struggled to restrain a sob as Kane sat beside me and gingerly handed me Mabel. When she snuffled at my chest, Kane’s deft fingers moved my shirt to help her latch on. He rested his hand on her head, the other on the back of my neck.

He didn’t say anything. Nor did my mom or Maisie. The two of them made us breakfast while I sat with Kane and Mabel, the sun streaming through the windows, watching the ocean.

I’d never felt more fragile in my life. Never felt more present. Or more scared. I tried my best to mold into it.

“Marathon, not a sprint,” Kane leaned in to whisper my words from last night.

I nodded then sank into him.

Kiera arrived later that day.

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