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“Shh, shh,” I said as I scooped up my stinky son.
And then I highly regretted my decision. “Oh,” I said, my hand feeling the warmth on my son’s back as my eyes focused on the yellow mustard stain on his crib sheet. “I guess we’d better get you cleaned up, right?”
I walked us to his bathroom and started the water for a bath.
A minute later, Eve came rushing into the bathroom. “Do you want me to help?” she asked, completely out of breath.
Eve had been my rock for the last two weeks. I didn’t know fuck all about babies, and she’d given me many crash courses on what to do, and when.
Crapping up his onesie seemed to be my son’s specialty. As was peeing on me.
Those had been my first lessons.
“No, I think I can handle it. Thanks.” I smiled at her.
She grinned back and said, “I love you, Carlo. We’ll get through this. I know we will.”
I really wished I could hold her to that. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”
Normally, Eve would walk over to me and plant a kiss on my lips. Or at the very least, touch my arm.
If Giselle was as jealous as Eve said she was—we were going to have to stop that for a while. Until Giselle was—Giselle again.
Eve left us alone, and I bathed my fussy son all by myself.
After I dried him off, put another clean onesie on him, and changed out the crib sheets, I grabbed a bottle of breast milk from the kitchen.
My son did not enjoy waiting for his meal. But this was the way it had to be.
Bottle in mouth, I carried him upstairs to go check on his mother.
I listened at my door for any sounds. I always hoped to open the door to see her up and around, putting clothes away or making the bed.
But she never was.
Giselle was always in one place.
The bed.
I opened the door and walked inside quietly. She was in bed.
I walked over to my side and sat down with Marcello.
“I brought someone up to say hi to you.” I looked at Giselle’s unmoving prone form.
She rolled over, struggling as she went. She gave us her back. Again. Marcello’s birth had been traumatic for her body. Especially on certain organs.
She’d needed a couple of surgeries to stop the bleeding and to correct some damage.
The doctors weren’t sure if she’d ever be able to have another baby.
Needless to say, she was still in a lot of pain. Not that she’d take any pain meds for that pain. Because she wouldn’t.
Not one.
Instead, she suffered. I could tell. I could feel how uncomfortable she was, and how hard easy tasks were for her now.
“I’m trying to sleep. Leave me alone,” she mumbled under her breath.
