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I pluck at some lint on his sweatpants. “Because I am. I can’t feed her, I can’t hold her, I can’t even keep my shit together when I try.”
Pasha takes my hands in his and holds them to me. Like a warm, strong, solid straitjacket. “You are an incredible mother. I’ve never doubted that for a second. Neither should you.”
“But I?—”
“You panic. And stress. And no one blames you. My God, Daphne, the stress you’ve been under all through the pregnancy could fill a medical textbook on endurance.”
At least he acknowledges it.
“But Taty is literally brand-new to this world. She’s sensitive to emotions, and most especially your emotions.” He scoffs. “She couldn’t care less if I’m chewing on something from work that’s pissing me off. But you? You’re her mother. If you’re upset, she’s upset.”
“I’m trying,” I groan into his chest. “I really am.”
“I know. But are you worried when you do? Thinking about what it means if nothing works?”
“… Maybe.”
He gives me a knowing smile. “Have you tried just feeding her? No expectations, none of this stupid self-deprecation you keep putting yourself through. Just… feed her.”
I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. “If it’s that easy, then why don’t you do it? Even better, why not go marry someone else who can do it? Apparently, I’m the only idiot in this world who struggles to give milk to a goddamn baby!”
I know I’m lashing out. I know I’m letting my fears get the better of me.
But I can’t help it. I can’t take it.
I try to move off his lap. Pasha wraps his arms around my waist and in an instant, the world spins around me and he pins me down onto the bed.
I try to wriggle away, but he presses his whole body on top of me. Head to toe, I’m covered by Pasha’s bulk with no way out.
My brain wants to scream at him.
My legs want to wrap around him.
“Hush, moya plamya.” His breath fans over my face. “You’re beautiful. Wonderful. Everything I’ve ever wanted and needed and I’m not letting you go.”
“Tell that to our daughter.”
“I do. Every day.” He strokes my hair back and feathers more of his kisses across my brow. “And she knows it. She loves you, Daphne. Wholly and completely. You are her safe space. She needs you.”
Tears spill from my lashes. He kisses them away. “I almost starved her to death,” I whimper.
“Daphne.” His tone firms, and he makes me look him in his eyes. “Neither of us knew what was going on. For you to say that, to even believe that, means you think I’d actually let something like that happen. Is that what you think of me?”
“No.”
“Good. So stop thinking that about yourself. We went to the doctor for answers. We got them. Now, we adjust.”
I have to admit, feeling him on top of me like some weighted blanket is actually calming me down. Hearing him say these things is, too. I’m still shaky in the confidence department, but… he may have a point. I need to stop freaking out all the time.
“I have to keep trying.” It’s barely a whisper. But it’s something. “I can’t… I can’t just give up without trying for her.”
“Only as long as it’s actually doing you good. If it starts hurting you, physically or emotionally, we stop. I won’t let you hurt yourself. Okay?”
I sigh and nod. “Okay.”
For a long, quiet moment, we lie together on the bed. Pasha doesn’t move off of me, and I don’t want him to. He studies my face, strokes my hair, rests his brow to mine as we both breathe each other in.
“There’s no one in this world I want more than you, Daphne,” he murmurs. “So no more talk about you leaving or me finding ‘someone better,’ because that’s not happening. Ever. Understood?”
