Her heart procedure three days ago was a success. Thankfully, the surgeon said he was hopeful for a full recovery and that Cadence shouldn’t have any long-term adverse effects from the repaired defect.
My phone vibrates on the side table and I reach around the tubes of my breast pump to grab it before it wakes Cadence.
Unfortunately, I’m not quick enough, and she stirs before a high-pitched wail rings through the room.
I quickly remove the breast pump from my nipples, placing the parts on the table, before adjusting my nursing tank and picking up Cadence from her crib.
The day after her procedure, she graduated from the incubator to a crib. I got to hold her for the first time right before they wheeled her to the cath lab. I’ve never cried so many tears of joy andfear at once.
Now, as I try to soothe my upset daughter, tears of anxiety and doubt flood my eyes.
The past two days have been filled with Cadence’s shrieking cries, causing very little sleep on my end. Sheer exhaustion has taken over my body, leaving my mind in a state of absolute chaos.
I’m rocking my hips side to side, trying to soothe her, when a nurse comes into the room.
“Have you tried any music to try to calm her down yet? If not, I can get you a little speaker from our nurse’s station,” she suggests.
“At this point, I’ll accept all the advice you’ve got.”
She returns moments later with the speaker. “Here you go. It has Bluetooth, so you can just connect your phone. There’s a good lullaby playlist on Spotify. I can hold her while you connect your phone if you’d like.”
I carefully place Cadence in the nurse’s arms, then connect my phone to the speaker. I play the lullaby playlist the nurse suggested, then sit in the rocking chair with Cadence.
She’s still fussy as the second song comes to a close. The start of the third lullaby comes on the speaker, and the acoustic guitar opening almost instantly calms Cadence from a shrieking cry to a whimper. As the opening lyrics fill the room, tears flood my eyes.
By the time the chorus of an acoustic version of “You Are My Sunshine” comes through the speakers, Cadence is no longer fussy. Instead, she’s passed out peacefully in my arms.
I place her back in the crib before reattaching the pump parts to my sore nipples, and then I silently sob in the rocking chair while staring at the most beautiful gift in the world.
The next morning is Monday, and Carson comes to check on Cadence bright and early since he doesn’t have classes until later that afternoon.
“Go take a shower and try to get some rest, Mack. I’ve got her. If I need any help, the nurses are just outside in the hallway.”
“I can’t bring myself to leave her side, Carse.”
“Cadey Cat is okay now. You’ve got to accept our help, Mack. You don’t need to do this alone.”
Easy for him to say. He’s not the nineteen-year-old single mother who feels like her every move is being judged. I’m so grateful for the help that my family provides Cadence and me. But I also feel guilty—like I’m failing when I accept their help.
I’m brought back to the present as I finish singing the last lyrics of our song—what was once mine and Griffin’s but is now mine and Cadence’s—to our daughter. I peer at her perfect sleeping form.
I can’t tell you how many nights I’d rocked her to sleep, completely in love with her while completely hating myself for the failure I’d become. I would sit there and let the intrusive thoughts eat me alive.
She’s better off without you.
Another family could give her more love and support.
You’re the reason your family feels like they need to help you nonstop.
You couldn’t even make the one person who said he’d love you forever stay. What makes you think you’re good enough for this perfect little girl?
The postpartum period was a real bitch. But with the help of my therapist, I’ve been able to push those negative thoughts out of my head.
I sit here tonight, in her nursery, and focus on Cadence’s perfect little lips, her dimpled fists, and her soft head of blonde hair. She has Griffin’s coffee-colored eyes and one heart-stopping dimple on her left cheek.
I’m so thankful to be her mama. I’m grateful that Griffin helped make her. I’m sad that he honestly doesn't remember me telling him she exists. I’m mad that he changed his phone number and gave his old one away during the months I tried to contact him. I’m disappointed that Griffin and Cadence will never get those moments back that he missed out on.
I know I can’t live in the past and stew on regrets. So, I give myself a few moments to reflect on how things could’ve been different beforeclosing that chapter. I’m ready to turn the page and see where this new chapter takes me and Cadence.
