Page 46 of Wylder Ranch
I laugh, needing a distraction. “Maybe her genius has a daily limit.”
“That’s most likely the case. Can’t make other babies jealous, you see.” He picks up the sponge and runs it over the delicious, chubby folds on her thighs.
“Her legs seem so much longer in the ten days since we arrived,” I muse.
“Ten days? That’s gone quickly.”
Everly’s loud babbling sidetracks Alex, and he doesn’t notice the pang of sadness in my voice. We leave in less than a week. “I know.”
“I didn’t realize it had been that long. Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?” He turns andwinks.
“It sure does.”
Everly laughs when I tickle her feet, her fists balling as she powers her arms up and down, like she’s just discovered what they do. The warm water has turned her cheeks pink, and when her eyes close as I rub a bit of baby shampoo through her hair, her eyelashes are almost long enough to rest on them.
“Tell me about when she was born.”
Alex’s voice—quiet and earnest—stops me in my tracks.
My fingers are massaging Everly’s head, and I’m focused on her, but I know Alex is looking at me. I can feel the weight of it. Or maybe it’s the guilt weighing me down again in the knowledge that I took my pregnancy away from him.
Picking up a small jug, I rinse the soap from Everly’s hair.
“It was intense. She was a big baby, almost nine pounds.” I squeeze her chubby thighs, soothing myself in the sound of her giggles. “She was a week early. I guess she decided she’d had enough. Saylor had been sleeping over at my house in case I went into labor during the night, but my first contractions started around nine a.m. My OB/GYN had said to wait until they hit around five minutes apart before coming into the hospital, so we put on a movie—one of Holiday’s actually—and waited.”
“How long were you waiting?”
“By midnight, they were still seven minutes apart.” I puff out a soft laugh. “We’d been through four movies and half the first season ofGossip Girl. Saylor was sleeping on my couch. I was trying to sleep, but every time I dozed off, this one decided I should be awake. I guess I should have gone to the hospital earlier, but I was determined todo what my doctor had told me.”
While I talk, Alex presses the buttons on the light-up toys, watching Everly. I can’t tell if he’s doing it to prevent her from getting antsy in the water, or because he can sense the words are hard for me to get out.
The birth of my first child wasn’t the experience everyone said it would be. It was hard and painful.
I lost count of how many times I shouted at Saylor that I couldn’t do it, and it wasn’t just giving birth I was talking about.
“Eventually, Saylor drove me there. Because of the contractions, I’d had no sleep and was so exhausted that the doctor gave me an epidural, hooked me up to the monitors, and told me to rest. I slept for twelve hours, and Saylor stayed with me the whole time. When I eventually woke up, the contractions had moved on.”
“And then she arrived?”
I look at Alex for the first time since this story started. He’s as eager to know every single detail as I am not to share it. I don’t know if he’s ready to hear about the tearing and the stitches, or the delay in getting her to breastfeed and immediately feeling like a failure.
So I nod and smile. “After more drugs and a lot of pushing, yup, she arrived.”
“Saylor was with you?”
“She was.” I laugh. Note to self, make sure your next birth partner doesn’t puke at the sight of blood. “She said it traumatized her for life, but we got through it together.”
“I’m glad you weren’t alone.” Alex laughs along with me, though I’m not sure we’re laughing for quite the same reasons. But then he goes quiet again. “I wish I’d been there.”
“Me too,” I reply truthfully. How different things would be if he were. “I’m sorry, Alex. I really am. I should have?—”
He finds my hand under the water and squeezes. But he doesn’t tell me it’s okay, because it’s not, and I can hear his sorrow.
“Hey. You’re here now.”
I’m too choked up to reply, so I nod and hope Alex doesn’t notice. But the force of swallowing away the thickness in my throat, combined with the temperature and the soporific scent of lavender, has me yawning. And that hedoesnotice.
“Perhaps Everly isn’t the only one who needs to go to bed.”
