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“Me too…”
And two became three…
epilogue
EIGHTEEN MONTHS AND SOME CHANGE.
Elias.
“Look EJ, you see Mommy up there.”
He smiled up at me and clapped his little hands.
This kid.
Elias Cress Omari Junior.
My son.
He wasn’t a junior but that was how we filled out his birth certificate. It worked because I didn’t have a middle name and who the fuck was going to tell me no? It was important that EJ be considered as equal parts of both me and his mother so she agreed to his middle name being her first. She’d fought but I was adamant. The name Cress was gender neutral so it fit our needs. But again, who the fuck would say a word to me or my kid about his name?
Never knew a love like the one I felt the day he was born. I accepted him and loved him from the day Cress told me of his existence but damn if that failed in comparison to what I felt when he took his first breath and was placed in my arms.
I fucking cried.
For two days I fucking cried.
He was so perfect. The kid had equal parts of both his mother and me but she swore his personality was all me. That scared the shit out of me in the beginning. I watched him like a hawk, analyzing, studying, trying to make sure there were some parts of him that I didn’t give him, but it was too early to tell. Either way, I didn’t care, I loved him with everything that I was. I would always love him with everything that I was.
EJ and Cress were the only good things I could claim as my own. There were days when I didn’t feel worthy but then she smiled at me, kissed me, and I was convinced that she was meant to be mine.
When my son smiled at me with those bright, innocent, expressive eyes, looking at me like I was everything right in his world, I knew even if I didn’t deserve him or his mother I was going to work overtime to ensure they were never disappointed on my behalf. I was far from perfect but for them I didn’t have to be. For them I just had to show up and give them the best parts of myself. That was always enough but of course I gave that and more.
I ran my hand over his head and he threw it back against my chest and smiled up at me.
“Mommy dance.”
“Yeah buddy, she’s dancing.”
This was her first performance back after ending her last season early after finding out she was carrying our son. I struggled for the two months she danced after we found out. She trained hard. Then there was the small detail of trusting her partner to lift and spin her in positions that if they failed, both her and our child would have been at risk.
Drove me fucking crazy but she told me to trust her.
So I did.
I’d do anything for her, for our son, and she would do anything for me. That was proven a million times over.
She stayed.
I wasn’t easy. Loving me was a bit of a challenge. I knew that but I also knew that she wouldn’t have it any other way. She told me that once when I was spiraling. Most days I was level. It was easy to do what was right to ensure I was, especially when I thought about who would suffer if I didn’t do the work. Some things I couldn’t help but what I could control, I did. She was the only one who could reach me at times and she claimed that position proudly. Said I made her shades of gray come alive with my colors.
My chaos to her calm.
My dark to her light.
We worked.
A strong man was often shattered by weakness, my mental health was that for me but Cress never accepted me using it as a crutch. She pushed me to accept everything about myself and I did because she loved me through the insecurities and challenges.
