“Oh,Mama,” Debbie, Alexander’s nurse for the night, said. “It’s okay. Leaving himthe first time was always going to be hard, every mom feels like that, butyou’ll be okay. You’re strong, and you’re going to get through this.”
“Iknow,” I said, pressing a hand to the warm plastic of hisisoletteand trying hard to keep from becoming a blubbering mess. “It just feels wrong.Like, I’m his mom and he’s just a baby. I’m not supposed to leave my baby.”
“Iknow it feels wrong,” she replied sympathetically. “But you know he is exactlywhere he needs to be, and you know where you need to be is at home. You won’tget any better being here. You need your own bed, your own shower and clothes—”
“Andmy cat,” I added with a tearful laugh, looking through the clear plastic andwatching the rapid rise and fall of my baby’s chest.
“Exactly.”Debbie smiled, as she reached out and rested her hand on my arm. “Everything isgoing to beokay,I promise. And you know you can callus to check on him anytime you want, day or night. We are always here.”
Inodded briskly, as the exhaustion from standing for too long in the heat of theNICU began to get to me. It always did, and I couldn’t stand it. I alsocouldn’t stand not spending longer withhim, whenIalways felt like I should. I couldn’t stand not being able to do more than justlook athim, whenI felt like I should. And I couldn’tstand the idea of walking away from him and through those doors, when I knewthat I didn’t have a choice.
Tearsfilled my eyes again as I whispered to him, “I don’t want to go. I don’t wantto leave you here. But I’ll be back, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow and the nextday and every single day after, until you can come home, okay?” I stroked theplastic with my thumb, wishing itwashis skin, andadded, “I love you, my beautiful baby boy.”
Then,I forced myself to turn toward the door as the tears dripped from my chin. Ipushed one foot in front of the other, severing the tethers that held me to myson, and felt them stretching, snapping, and fraying as I made my way out ofthe NICU.
Andeven despite how good it felt to have the fresh air on my skin for the firsttime in a week, I cried all the way home.
***
“Areyou sure you don’t want us to stay?” Mom asked, as she and Dad packed theirthings.
Theyhad plans to catch an early train the next morning. After spending a week inthe city, their list of things that needed to be done was growing longer by theminute, but so was their desire to stay by my side during recovery.
“I’mgonnabe fine,” I told her, finding a comfortablespot on the couch beside Mrs. Potter. She purred wildly, nuzzling her cheek,chin, and nose against every part of me that she could reach.
“She’smissed you,” Dad commented with a gentle smile.
“Thefeeling is mutual,” I said, taking her little head in my hands and massagingher cheeks with my thumbs.
Iwas so happy to be home I could’ve cried just from smelling something otherthan disinfectant. But I was also so sad to be this far away from my son, evenwhen it wasn’t that far at all, and the war of emotions was leaving me feelingheavy with exhaustion.
“Ithink I’m going to sleep,” I announced abruptly, using the arm of the couch toget up, even though I had just sat down. “A good, long sleep in my own bedsounds reallyfreakin’ nice right now.”
“Okay,honey. Sleep as long as you need to,” Mom said, coming to my aid, even though Irefused the help. “Do you want us to wake you up when we leave?”
Ishook my head. “You guys don’t need to do that,” I told her. “I justwannasleep until my body wants to wake up.”
Shewas reluctant to agree, as her fingers worried the hem of her sweater. I knewit was killing her to leave me in such a fragile state, just as it was killingme to be so far away from Alexander. But I needed rest, they needed to work,and it was for the best. I knew this, and so did Mom, as she closed her eyesand nodded.
“Don’tforget we are only an hour away. You just say the word, and I’ll be on thattrain,” she said, as though an hour wasn’t far at all. But right now, thinkingabout the distance it felt like an eternity.
“Iknow, Mom.”
“I’llcome by a few times this week, to check up on you,” she added. “So, if you needanything, give me a call. I’ll start making a list.”
“Okay,Mom,” I groaned playfully, laughing despite the stinging across my lowerabdomen.
“Anddon’t forget, you have Goose, too,” she reminded me with a barely noticeablebut hopeful, suggestive smile. “And he’s not far.”
Momloved Goose. She had made that abundantly clear throughout my weeks stay in thehospital. Every day, when he left or his back was turned, she would make acomment or gesture, indicating just how much she adored him. I tried to thwarther suggestions to pursue something romantic with him, because what kind ofwoman starts something new just after a breakup and right after having a baby?Didn’t I have enough to deal with? But, as reluctant as I was to admit it, thetemptation was growing stronger by the day.
Still,I disputed, “Mom, I can’t be bothering Goose all the time. He does have afamily of his own, and a job.”
“Kenny,”Mom sighed. “We both know you’re not a bother to him.”
Iwasn’t oblivious, and I knew I wasn’t a bother. With every infuriating protest Imade, the more I reminded myself of the obnoxious heroines I wrote about in mybooks, and the reviews readers sometimes left about how much they couldn’tstand them. And as I wandered into my room, with my trusted feline anxious atmy heels, I wondered if maybe it was abouttimeIstopped being exactly what I couldn’t stand and got my hero.
Chapter Twenty-Six
