Page 19 of Finding the Pieces

Luca getting frequent checks and testing by the nurses after my surgery. Bec running into my hospital room, flustered and scared at the sight of me, clinging to me tightly while I sob. Dom and I alone in a quiet hospital room at three in the morning, my hand in his as he softly rubs his thumb over my knuckle before he drops a kiss to the same spot. My vacant stare reflecting back at me in the hospital mirror; my first look at myself after delivery. Dark, gray circles under the eyes, the adult diaper, numerous angry, purple stretchmarks, orderly stitches across the lower abdomen, a swollen but empty belly.Who the fuck is she?

“Come on, honey. Let’s grab some tea,” my mom insists, calling my attention back to the present as she stands, reaching for my hand.

I glance at my dad and Luca who are seated on the floor of my living room, playing with some of his new toys from his birthday party.

My dad offers me a warm smile, reassuring me. “I’ve got him, Ellie. I won’t take my eyes off him.”

My weak grin must show every anxious thought racing through my head. I thought I’d been that good at hiding it, but can you really hide those kinds of things from the people who raised you?

“Sit with me in the kitchen. We’ll keep an eye on these two,” Mom adds, reaching for me again since I’m still planted firmly on the couch.

I take her hand and join her in our attached kitchen. I sit when Mom insists that she’ll put the kettle on the stove.

“Tension tamer or raspberry? What am I saying? Both. Always both,” she adds, muttering to herself while she puts the water on and digs through my disaster of a pantry. Mom never uses one tea flavor. She digs into the depths of my stash to brew a new potion every time. It’s always delicious.

She works quietly and I watch from a short distance as Luca giggles. Dad beams at every sound. It has to be true what they say. That strong, intergenerational relationships keep the grandparents young and do so much for baby’s development too. It’s beautiful to witness.

I want to fully appreciate these moments. Savor these memories. Except that I’m here, but I’m not. I’m partially stuck in the past even though I desperately want to move forward and live in thenow.

I was doing better, but the last two months sent me spiraling back to the place I was a year ago. Now I’m left wondering…will it ever stop?

Will I ever be able to celebrate my son’s birthday without fixating on all that went wrong the day we welcomed him into our arms and our hearts? Will I ever laugh without the fear that this will all be taken from me, because it almost was? Will I ever be able to drive past the hospital without crying? Will I always take the long way around to avoid driving by the place altogether? Will I forgive myself for what happened? For what I couldn’t control when I was at my most vulnerable state?

The whistle of the kettle draws my attention back to Mom, who finishes her tinkering before bringing two mugs to the table for us, her sitting by my side to join me in watching over the grandfather-grandson playdate in the living room. After a minute or two, I drop my stare to the drink in my hands and wait.

Mom texted me this morning asking if Luca and I wanted some company. The timing seemed suspicious given it’s Monday, Dom’s first day back at work and my first day home alone with Luca since his birthday party. They always seem to sense when I don’t want to be left alone.

I’m hardly ever truly alone these days, but still, motherhood surprised me with how isolating it can be. I rarely want totalkabout my struggles, but being around the people I love helps quell the loneliness.

Mom and Dad practically bulldozed the front door down when I gave them the green light. Turns out, they were already in the driveway with breakfast in hand. Family and friends who bring parents hot meals are good people. And when they don’t judge the shit show state the house is sure to be in? They’re thebestpeople. It’s a fact.

“So,” my mom begins. “Saturday was fun.”

I nod. “It was. Luca had a great time.”

She hums her agreement before sipping her tea. “And you?” she asks cautiously.

“It was nice to get everyone together.” I shrug. When Luca woke up on his birthday, I shut down any part of me that wanted to spiral back tothattime and place. I focused all my attention on Luca, worked so hard to see the day through his eyes only. Until he fell asleep in my arms, where Dom found us. A person can only fight for so long before they crash.

But throughout the day, I surprised even myself. I smiled, laughed, and shared the day with the people who mean the most to us. I’m grateful Dom organized everything, and to everyone who helped the party run smoothly and spoiled this kiddo with so many toys; it looks like we need to start some kind of a toy rotation.

“It seemed like you were having fun. But I…” Mom hesitates. Typically so steady and confident, it’s rare to see her unsure. “I just worry that maybe you were trying to put on a brave face for us…and for Luca. Are you all right, sweetheart?”

I buy some time, taking a large gulp from my mug, the nearly too hot liquid burning on its way down. I nod vigorously. “I’m okay, Mom. I had a rough month, but things are getting better.”

Lie.

Her eyes search mine, and it’s clear she sees through my placating smile. I wonder if I’ll be able to sniff out the bullshit Luca throws at me someday too. Is that a universal maternal gift or a Carolyn special?

“You know you can talk to me, right? To us?” She tilts her head toward my dad.

“I know, Mom.” That’s never been the problem. I know my loved ones would drop everything to be there for me if I asked. They would be loving, and they would listen. I’ve just never had the words. Never wanted to dig deep enough to find them.

I refused to let my issues ruin his birthday, but I gave myself my moment. It wasn’t until I had finished his nighttime nurse, and held Luca in my arms, rocking him to sleep, that I finally let myself feel. Grief and shame, gratitude and relief, joy and sadness, all flooding me in rapid succession and cycles. Dom found us there, me unwilling to part with the baby I’d giveeverythingfor.

I could finally let my careful restraint slip without having to explain anything to anyone. I don’t have any answers for them anyway. Except Dom did see. He slipped into Luca’s room and held us, just like he had the day he was born.

Neither of us know what to say. Some things are just too hard to push past. It’s better to bury it and try to move forward as much as possible, even with these goddamn flashbacks and intrusive thoughts hammering inside my mind.

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