Chapter 10

TEN

The time we brought Amelia home

My mother once told me the birth of your first child will always hold a special place in your heart. It’s a life-changing moment where time stands still the second your firstborn child is laid in your arms.

There is an overwhelming sense of love, and everything you thought you once knew about life makes no sense at all before this very moment.

It was four days ago when Charlotte brought Amelia into this world. Nothing has ever felt this perfect. This tiny human being had a hold over me, and my desire to protect her kicked into stealth mode the second her little lungs let out a cry because she was finally here.

The call from Charlotte to say her water broke, to the rush to the hospital to give birth, all of it was a giant blur. The sheer panic from the possibility of something going wrong never dissipated. My knowledge and experience in medicine made it even more stressful. I’d seen worst-case scenarios, which perhaps was why I hovered around the medical staff to ensure they were following protocol.

We finally made it here, the end of our hospital journey, and ready for our new life as a family of three.

The ride home from the hospital is incredibly slow on my part. I chose to drive, not wanting a driver to be in control of the wheel. Charlotte comments on my speed but decides to ignore the obnoxious horns, impatiently telling me to move faster. They can all fuck right off. My daughter needs to make it safely home. That’s all I care about.

The car is parked in the garage underneath the building. With the carrier unfastened and in my hands, I carry Amelia with one arm and insist Charlotte hold onto my other arm for support. Given the cesarean, she’s still sore but able to walk at a slow pace.

Amelia continues to sleep like an angel while we enter the apartment. At the same time, Charlotte lets out a long-winded yawn. It’s been a tough few days on her body, and I’m worried she’s not getting enough rest since Amelia enjoys staying awake during the night. A hard lesson we have learned in the short time she’s been with us.

“Why don’t you head to bed?” My hand reaches out to cup her chin gently, hoping she’ll listen and not be stubborn as usual. “You need rest.”

Charlotte lets out another yawn. “But what if she wakes up?”

“Then I’ll take care of her.”

“But what if she needs a feed?”

She has a point. Charlotte isn’t producing enough milk yet to be able to pump copious amounts in advance.

“Okay, so why don’t we try pumping again before you sleep?” I openly suggest. “Your milk should come in real soon.”

With a barely-there nod, Charlotte decides to take a shower first to rid herself of the hospital smell, as she calls it. I use the time wisely, preparing the pump and getting the bed comfortable for Charlotte. Her shower takes too long, so I check to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep in there.

When she’s ready to finish, I help her out carefully so Charlotte doesn’t fall since she still has a bandage on her stomach. Also, her limbs and muscles are still weak.

“We need to change the bandage tomorrow,” I inform her.

“Yes, Dr. Edwards,” she manages with a soft chuckle, then winces in pain. “Karma, for teasing you.”

We move to the bedroom, where Charlotte changes with my help. I’ve transferred Amelia to her cradle to sleep, worried she’s cramped in her carrier. Thankfully, she continues to sleep since Charlotte is on the verge of passing out.

I take the breast pump out, latching it on carefully to see if Charlotte releases some milk. A few drops come out, then a few more, enough for one feed for Amelia. When it’s clear nothing else comes out, Charlotte throws her head back on the pillow and begins to cry.

“I’m a failure.”

Quickly, I put the lid on the bottle and placed it on the nightstand, removing the suction carefully from her breasts.

“You’re not a failure. You’re a mother who just gave birth to her first child.”

“It’s not my first child,” she mumbles.

I let out a sigh, forgetting Charlotte’s trauma which is still weighing heavy on her mind as it does on mine. The difference is that I didn’t give birth to a stillborn baby, nor was I there to experience the trauma firsthand.

Softly, I grab Charlotte’s hand and kiss it gently. “I’m here. I will always be here. Please let me help you. Amelia is our child, and I don’t want you to ever think you’re in this alone, but you need to talk to me, baby. I know you’re scared and tired and think about Alexander all the time.”

“I keep thinking, what-if?” She begins to speak with a choke in her voice. “What if I did have him? Would I have ever told you?”

There’s no answer I’m able to give. How can I imagine the ‘what-if’ when everything I want is inside this very room?

“I don’t know, Charlotte.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have,” she says with conviction. “I would have forever thought you chose your wife and child with her at the time over me. I never wanted us to be second.”

I take a deep breath, entertaining her thoughts for just a moment. “You would never have been second. I promise you that.”

“I go over it in my head. More so in the last few weeks as we drew closer to giving birth. Would I have studied Law? Would I have gone back home to my dad? What if—”

“Charlotte,” I interrupt calmly. “You need to stop asking yourself these questions. There is no answer. I’m here, and I promise you that if I knew you were having our baby, I would have been there for you.”

“But you wouldn’t have left her,” she insists.

I’m not sure if it’s the hormones talking or if I should accept her feelings about our past.

“I left the moment I found out the child she carried belonged to someone else. Did I stay with her when I thought it was my child? Yes, because I thought it was the right thing to do. God, Charlotte, I was in over my head. I wasn’t innocent in all this, and neither was Samantha. But we can’t keep going over this expecting a different outcome.”

“I know there’s no different outcome,” she mumbles while twitching her fingers. “Look, I’m tired.”

“Then please get some rest. I will wake you if I need you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

I leave the room to quickly shower so Amelia doesn’t wake up. Dressed in my sweats and tee, I’m expecting a sleepless night once Amelia finds her lungs. I sit beside my sleeping wife and quickly answer some emails on my phone before Amelia begins to stir.

It always starts with a cute baby noise until it blows out into a wail. My feet touch the ground as I get out of bed and take Amelia out, bringing her to the changing table for a quick diaper change, to which she almost cries. Her face does this scrunch, then her lips begin to quiver, but then she relaxes.

When she’s in a fresh diaper, I grab the bottle to feed her. Only remembering now it’s cold, I carry Amelia in my arms to the kitchen. Carefully, I managed with one hand to boil some water on the stovetop to sit the bottle in for a few minutes. I rock Amelia back and forth until the bottle is warm and begin to feed her. She manages to drink the entire bottle. Then, I burp her until she falls into another sleep.

Once it’s evident she’s out again, I turn the lamp off and place Amelia in her cradle before settling back into bed. Maybe this isn’t so hard. So, I wake up once at night. It’s not like I was used to sleeping before this. I’ve always been a night owl.

With darkness once again casting over the room, my eyes begin to drop, only realizing now how exhausting the last few days have also been for me.

It’s pitch black when Charlotte’s voice wakes me.

“Lex,” she whispers, touching my arm gently.

My eyes spring open in a panic. “What’s wrong?”

In a daze, I go to turn the lamp on, almost blinding myself, then rub my face to wake myself up. My ears listen out for Amelia, but she’s quiet. What the hell is wrong then?

“My milk came in.”

I turn to look over and see Charlotte’s tank completely drenched.

A relaxed smile falls upon my face. “What a relief.”

My body twists to help her remove the wet tank and bra beneath it. When she’s completely bare-chested, I try not to focus on everything engorged. The veins surrounding her nipples are blue and prominent. Her nipples appear much larger.

Listen, control yourself.This isn’t the time to get turned out by your wife’s tits even though your dick is now hard, and there’s no fucking stopping it.

“It’s okay. You can admit they look weird.”

I hop out of bed and open the drawer, grabbing a new bra and shirt. “They don’t look weird. They look perfectly normal for a lactating mother.”

“You think I look disgusting. It’s why you can’t even look at them.”

Motioning for her to extend her arms, I slide a new bra on and then help her with the shirt.

“Quite the opposite, they’re quiet, umm… how shall I say it?”

“Just say it,” Charlotte blurts in annoyance. “Hideous.”

“Sexy.”

“Sexy?” Charlotte glances down, furrowing her brows in confusion. “These things?”

“Yes, so if we can please stop talking about it, I would appreciate it.”

I toss Charlotte’s wet clothes into the hamper while Amelia cries. Lifting her from the cradle, I take soft steps and bring her back to our bed. Charlotte takes her from my arms, then attempts to latch her on, to which Amelia finally begins to suck.

“Thank God,” Charlotte says, then winces. “Ow.”

“Just breathe,” I tell her, rubbing her shoulder to distract her, knowing it’s painful for women when their milk finally comes in.

I never imagined watching my child with the woman I love.

But here we are.

It’s such a beautiful sight.

“Just perfect,” I whisper.

Charlotte relaxes her shoulders with an adoring smile. “Our family. I couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect.”