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“She looks like she’s feeling better this morning,” I say to Maisie, relieved that the discomfort from the previous night seems to have passed.
Maisie nods and smiles at her daughter propped on my hip. “Yeah. She slept the rest of the night too, so that was a nice change.”
“Does she usually wake up more often?”
“Sometimes. We’re going for longer stretches now, but she still nurses in the middle of the night if she wakes up.”
The dark circles under Maisie’s eyes are a little lighter this morning, but I don’t know if it’s from the additional sleep she must have gotten or some of the pressure of unburdening herself last night.
“Here, why don’t you sit down and eat. I’ll take her back.”
The conversation from last night runs through my head. Maisie all alone, pregnant and moving from one place to another, month after month.
“I’ve got her. You should sit down and eat while it’s hot.”
A pinkish blush crops up on Maisie’s cheeks. “Oh, no, really, it’s okay. I can take her.”
“Maisie.” Her name, two syllables, but it gets her to look at me. “Why don’t you want me to hold her while you’re eating?”
“I don’t know, okay? I’m just not used to having help, or other people around us. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold her while I eat. We’ve been alone for a long time — I’m used to it — and you’ve already helped us so much, I don’t want to be a burden.”
My heart cracks right there in my chest. A jagged split down the center.
“If you really want her back, that’s fine — she’s your daughter. But me offering to hold her doesn’t make you a burden, especially not when I offer. The fact that you’ve been doing this alone for so long is admirable, but it doesn’t mean that you always have to do everything on your own.”
Maisie relents, though I can tell she doesn’t believe my words yet. “Okay.” She takes her plate to the other side of the breakfast counter and sits down.
I snag my own plate and sit down next to her, careful to keep a little bit of distance between us for her comfort. “Is she allowed to eat any of this?” I ask as Audra reaches for my plate.
Maisie glances over at us. “She can have small bites of the eggs, or the soft parts of bacon. She’s really good at chewing with just her gums.”
Cutting a minuscule portion of my eggs, I balance it on the tip of my fork and aim it for Audra’s mouth, careful to keep the tines controlled so she doesn’t hurt herself. Audra bites down on the eggs and I nearly crow at the happy gurgle she lets out at the taste of the food.
“She’s already eaten though, so you don’t have to share with her if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t mind.” I mumble, my concentration focused on feeding Audra.
We eat in silence as I split my meal between me and the infant balanced on my lap. Maisie makes quick work of her own breakfast and turns to me.
“There, all done. Do you want me to take her so you can finish?” She offers hesitantly.
I level a playful look at her. “Sunshine. You gotta learn to share the baby snuggles.”
Keeping things light between us is my goal this morning. Though her story from last night sits heavy in the pit of my stomach.
Maisie’s own lips purse in a small smile before she holds her hands up. “Okay. Sorry. It’s knee-jerk. You want to hold her while you eat, you can.”
Maisie stands and then steps to the sink before rinsing her plate and putting it in the dishwasher.
“So,” she says, her gaze pinning me in place.
“Yeah?”
“About last night. I’m sorry that I unloaded all of that on you.” Her hands twist in the hem of her shirt as she apologizes and my still bleeding heart cracks at the sight of her anxiety.
I shake my head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I asked, you answered.” My tone is firm. I’ll be damned if I have her apologize for sharing something so traumatic — something that I know wasn’t easy to share with a virtual stranger.
“Yeah, but —”
