Page 7 of Finding the Pieces

Luca spots me and squeals.

Yeah, that’ll never get old.

Without hesitation, I storm into the bathroom, matching Luca’s excited squeal with one of my own, reaching for my son and wife, eager to join in the moment before it’s only another foggy memory.

***

“How was work?” Ellie asks as she puts laundry away in Luca’s closet.

“It was fine,” I say from my spot on the floor. Luca squirms as I attempt to dry him off with the towel and wrestle him into a diaper. Ever since he’s become mobile, every diaper change is a battle of wills. If we walk away without getting pee everywhere, it’s a win. “How was today for you two?”

“It was good. My mom came over for a bit. Neither of us could get Luca down for his nap.”

I wince.Shit.

I love my son, but I know bedtime is about to be a fucking shit show since he hasn’t napped today. I don’t state the obvious and neither does Ellie.

Bedtime is a daily source of stress, each of us doing our best to soothe a fussing baby who desperately needs to sleep but only wants to sleep onusand not in his crib.

It’s enough to make me feel insane some nights. And usually enough to cause Ellie and I to argue about one thing or another.

Lately, it feels like I can’t do anything right. Luca only wants her, and if I do manage to get him asleep, the second I lay him down in the crib, he’s crying out only for our cycle of attempts to start over again.

We’re both exhausted, drained, and burned out, leaving us without any energy or patience, unable to shut down any resentment we feel. Resentment that isn’t against each other—and certainly not against Luca—but toward the situation. We’re trying our best, but it’s hard to remember that at three in the morning when you haven’t slept for more than an hour. It’s been like this for almost a year.

“What do you want to do for dinner?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I don’t know.”

Luca rolls over again, pulls himself onto all fours, and starts crawling toward Ellie’s feet. I swiftly pick him up and lay him onto a clean diaper, quickly securing the sides before he flails with all his strength and ends up back on his stomach, crawling away again. The clothes can wait—at least he’s got the diaper on.

“What do you feel like having?” I ask.

Her eyes flash to mine, and she huffs out an annoyed breath.Uh…okay?

“You good, El?”

“So do you just want me to figure it out?” She gives me her back while she stuffs more clothes into the closet.

“Uh, no. I was just asking if you wanted anything specific for dinner.”

Why do I feel like I’m alreadyfucked here?

“It’s fine. I’ll figure something out. Can you watch Luca while I get his food ready?”

“Ellie, I can take care of dinner. I wasn’t trying to put that on you.”

I hate this. Things between Ellie and I are…strained. It’s never been like this between us. I’ve never worried about our relationship like I have these past few months.

Every time I feel like we fall into a good rhythm, something comes along to disrupt everything, leaving tension high, our stress levels peaking, and we fall into some stupid, bickering fuck fest and we’re starting over.

I can’t shake this feeling between me and the woman I love more than anything. We keep drifting further apart and I feel helpless to stop it.

The look Ellie’s giving me now tells me that tonight is going to be another one full of passive comments where both of us are just trying to survive the sleep struggle so we can find a second to ourselves to recover from the exhaustion.

I need to fix what’s cracked between us. I want to cross this divide, wrap her in my arms, kiss her, and tell her how much I love her. But every time I get close, Ellie puts even more distance between us. Emotionally and physically. I don’t know what to do here, and while I love her endlessly, Ellie’s not really making it any easier. She won’t talk to me until everything is boiling over.

Like now.

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