CHAPTER 7
When I awoke Preston was nuzzled against me. She must have awakened during the night. This seemed to be an every night occurrence nowadays. Trey must have brought her to me like always since he had banished her from our bedroom. That was his sole contribution to her feeding these days.
Her head was bobbing as she gently nursed from me. It was odd that I hadn't felt her latch on, but sometimes she nursed more gently than other times. I looked at the clock on our night stand. Shit! I needed to get up and be out and about on my business for the day. It seemed like all she ever wanted to do was eat!
I pulled her from my breast so that I could rise up off of my side into a sitting position. Her milk sopped mouth quivered with unhappiness. I threw my legs over the side of the bed. I wiped the sleep from my eyes still cradling her in my free arm.
She started fussing immediately, kicking her chubby legs up in the air in anger, catching me in the face with her foot. Shit! That hurt! I was not in the mood for one of her notorious hissy fits at the moment that was for sure. I laid her down across the bed, and rubbed my temples.
My head was pounding over the stress of the last few days with the news of Jean; Gina was still a mess, refusing to get out of her bed at home. There had been no further improvement in either of their conditions. If Jean didn't recover I would lose the only real help that I had with Preston; if Gina went over the deep end I would lose my BFF.
For now I wish I had Jean back so that I could focus on helping Gina. Preston had seemed to turn into one fussy, demanding baby overnight. I couldn’t visit Gina and have any type of conversation with a whiney baby constantly on my hip or hanging from my tit. Right now, she was into full blown wailing. I was grinding my teeth in stress.
I had had enough. Fuck breast-feeding. It seemed like I had lived with this baby attached to one of my tits for the last several months. She had sucked the life out of me. Her wailing was quickly grating on my nerves like fingernails raking down a chalkboard.
I looked at her as she writhed and squirmed on the bed, her face scrunched up and red with anger. Her hands were clenched up in little fists.
Something drove me to suddenly raise my hand back and slap it firmly against her cheek. I was desperate for something - anything to make her shut the fuck up. I just couldn't handle it any longer!
The feel of my skin slapping harshly against her soft, baby skin was new to me. It stunned her I could tell. Her large blue eyes widened in surprise as she looked at me, crushed. She had never been slapped before. I had left a red hand print on her cheek. Perhaps it was time for her to realize that in life you don't always get what you want when you want it.
I looked at her with mixed feelings; some of it was disdain. Her chubby body was proof enough for me that she hadn't missed too many meals attached to my tit like she constantly seemed to be. She needed to know her limits.
She wailed in response to the slap. Large droplets of tears streaked paths down her cheeks. Good God; Trey would probably be racing in here now to see what the hell was going on. He hovered over me constantly watching me most of the time these days.
I drew my hand back once again, and struck her firmly across her other cheek. I heard the resounding echo of the slap. It knocked the air out of her wailing momentarily as her head snapped back against the bed. I kind of enjoyed the feeling that I got when I took control of the situation.
I finally picked her up off of the bed to change her diaper and get her ready so that she wouldn't delay me in getting my start for the day. She was still sobbing and crying when I placed her on the changing table in her room and removed her soaked diaper; she was sucking on her fist.
I clasped my hand around her ankles, raising her butt up in the air so that I could put a clean diaper underneath it with my free hand. She continued to whimper and pull her legs back from me, making it impossible for me to get the clean diaper affixed around her.
God I was so not in the mood for this today. I finally allowed her to succeed in freeing her legs from my grasp; she was kicking and sobbing. Her little arms reached up to me. She wanted me to pick her up; she still wanted the tit.
I flipped her over onto her belly, which now provided me full access to her bare bottom. I pummeled my open hand against the bare flesh of her butt again and again.
Listening to the sound of my skin slapping her skin reminded me of the sounds that I had often heard as far back as I could remember.
Sometimes they had brought me pain; other times only a feeling of fear and disgust. I looked down at the baby as my thoughts drifted back to the present. Her bottom was crimson red from my smacks. By this time she was shrieking in pain; her chubby legs were squirming against the pad of her changing table trying to scoot away out of my reach. She was scared of me. I found comfort in it for some reason.
There, there now. . . Perhaps I had slapped that fucking rash right off of her butt. Trey would have no reason to bitch at me about it anymore! He could no longer accuse me of being a negligent mother.
She continued kicking and screaming on her changing table. Fuck it! If she wanted to lay there diaper-less and pitch a fit so be it. I was going to get dressed. I left her on the changing table in her room, and made a hasty retreat back to the master suite so that I could find something to wear in my closet.
I searched for something 'non-mommy' to wear. I was sick to death of nursing bras and shirts that were constantly getting soaked with breast milk whenever the little shit started whining and crying. I wanted to look and feel sexy again, not like some wet-nurse with tits hanging down to the knees.
I found a pair of tight jeans in my closet and pulled them up over my still slim hips and flat stomach. I rummaged through my closet drawers and found a sexy black top with a built in push-up bra. With my larger breasts it revealed a whole lot of cleavage.
Breast-feeding did have its advantages I supposed.
This would be perfect to wear out to the construction site this afternoon. I had to meet with the contractor about the flooring in the main hallway and he was ten shades of sexy.
I had noticed how he had watched me whenever I went out to the site as long as Trey was not with me.
Once dressed, I scooted into the bathroom to put my make-up on and fix my hair. As I looked up into the mirror over the sink I was startled to see the face of my mother looking back at me from the reflection. I looked around the bathroom to see where she was lurking.
(What the . . .?)
I turned back to the mirror and blinked my eyes several times before I realized that the reflection in the mirror was me - but I now looked just like my MOTHER!
Just then I heard the muffled sound of glass shattering. It had come from down the hallway. It sounded like it came from Preston's room. Damn! What had the little shit gotten into now? I couldn't recall whether I had locked the rails up on the side of her changing table before I had left her room.
I hurried down the hallway to her room. I gasped as I looked over at her changing table and saw that it was empty. My gaze lowered to the carpeted floor beneath the changing table. She had fallen from the table onto the floor. She had broken into hundreds of pieces like a china doll.
Trey appeared next to me in the doorway; he was going to hate me for what I had done. I turned to him sobbing and crying. A smile was plastered on his face as if he were a statue that had no other expression other than the one he currently wore.
“I’m sorry Trey! I didn't mean to leave her on the changing table. Please, please - help me put her back together again!"
I was on my knees, trying to gather up the broken pieces of Preston. Trey continued to stand there like a statue not bothering to help me.
"Tylar! Tylar! What are you doing? Stop . . . you need to stop!"
My eyes looked back up finding him gazing down at me. We were no longer in Preston's room. We were on the bed in our room. His statue-like expression was gone. It had been replaced by one of fear and confusion. It was familiar to me now as I came out of my dream-like haze.
I had seen that same expression on his face every night for the past three nights. He reached over and flicked the switch on the lamp next to the bed. My face was covered with sweat. My breathing was quick and shallow. I looked up at him not masking my fear with the unanswered question.
"She's fine. She's in her bed right where you tucked her in earlier, Tylar."
His tone was different. He was exasperated; anyone could see that. For the first time I noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes. He had not been sleeping well, mostly because I had kept him up intermittently each night with these horrible nightmares that seemed so real.
"I'm sorry, Trey," I said softly. "It's just that I had this horrible dream about -"
"I know Tylar," he snapped in frustration.
"Please spare me the details. It was just another one of your fucked-up dreams like all of the others."
He lowered his head, rubbing his hand over his forehead and raking it back through his sleep-tousled hair. Trey's mom was due into Atlanta in the morning to stay and help out with the baby - truth be known, I knew that Trey had conveyed to her his concern about me and my paranoid mental state.
I couldn't be blamed for what I had dreamt; I did think that Trey had had his fill of me not seeing someone about them. He had been prodding me to talk to my OB/GYN to see if the dreams could possibly be attributed to post-partum depression. He wanted me to get help.
I couldn't tell him that this dream was different than the others. I was sickened by it.
This was the first time I had dreamt of hurting my baby; this was the first time I had ever dreamt that I was my mother.
"Trey," I said softly, waiting for him to look at me.
I felt so damaged.
He looked over at me, his gorgeous eyes tired and drawn; he was still rubbing the back of his neck in utter frustration and helplessness. He cocked an eyebrow waiting for me to say what I had to say.
"I will get in touch with the doctor tomorrow, I promise. I will find out what is going on and if Dr. Addison feels that it is beyond his expertise, I will have him refer me to a psychiatrist. I promise you that Trey. I am so very sorry that this has been happening."
"Sweetie," he replied with a sigh, drawing me closer to him.
"I am not blaming you for this. I know that whatever is going on with you is not of your choosing. I just want it gone."
"I understand," I choked out, tears welling up.
"Can I please ask you for one thing tonight?"
"What is it Tylar?"
"Please Trey, please can you get Preston and let her sleep in here with us?"
He eyed me warily. I actually thought that perhaps Trey no longer totally trusted me around my baby. The thought of that crushed me into a million pieces; yet had I told him about my latest dream I could almost guarantee that he would have me institutionalized.
"I will go get her," he replied quietly.
Her bassinet was still in our room and during the days when Trey was at work, I kept her in it so that I could be nearby watching 'Ellen" while she napped. I tried to make things normal like they used to be before Jean was run down and left for dead.
Trey returned with Preston in his arms. He placed her carefully into my arms where I looked down onto her sweet, chubby cheeks and kissed them gently to chase away the memories of what I had done to them in my latest dream.
Her large blue eyes fluttered open and she gazed up at me with love. I kissed her again and again. She smiled at me, presenting her dimple which I kissed as well. Her hand reached up and grabbed onto my hair, fisting it with her tiny fingers and pulling.
"Ouch," I said, laughing. "You are hurting mommy." She giggled with me and I gently pried her little fingers out of my hair, kissing them with my lips. I kissed her cheeks over and over again, telling her how much I loved her. I cradled her against me as we hunkered down and fell asleep together. She placed her tiny thumb in her mouth and snuggled against me feeling safe and secure within my arms.
It was sometime later that I felt Trey lifting her from my arms in order to place her into the bassinet.
"Trey, please don't take her from me. I need her here with me okay? Just this once?"
"I'm not an ogre for Chrissake Tylar."
"I didn't say that you were. I just know how you feel about her being in bed with us that's all."
He relented pulling the covers up around us and enfolding the baby and I within his strong and loving arms.
"I love you Tylar," he whispered into my ear.
"I love you Trey," I whispered back, snuggling against him.
"I'm sorry that I've been so fucked up."
"Go to sleep baby," he ordered softly.