Chapter 6
CJ has been sick for almost a week now, and I'm losing my mind. It’s breaking my heart because he won't stop crying, and I can’t find a way to comfort him. He spits out the medicine his doctor gave me and we're both miserable. I haven't slept in days. CJ is constantly unhappy and, the few times he’s dozed off from exhaustion, I’ve been too paranoid to sleep. What if he’s tangled in his blankets and can’t breathe? What if he has SIDs? What if a plastic bag floats into the room and lands on his head? Too many morbid thoughts flash through my mind. I’m not exactly stable when CJ isn’t sick. The stress of his high temperature has me beside myself.
I’m strong, I can do this. God won’t give me more than I can handle. I chant the phrase over and over, but it offers no comfort. I feel like God abandoned me years ago. We don’t talk anymore. I no longer believe in prayers or miracles. Nothing will change my mind, not after so many pleading prayers fell on deaf ears. God ignored me when I needed him most. I asked Him to spare my husband. I begged. I pleaded. I told Him that I’d do anything, but nothing changed. Cade is gone and I’m alone, and I really miss him at times like this.
I’ve taken my poor baby back and forth to the pediatrician three times in the past few days, trying to help him feel better. First, it was an ear infection, and not just an ear infection, but a double ear infection—his second one this month. The doctor said that if he keeps getting them, they'll have to put tubes in his ears. It’s completely routine, but putting my son to sleep for surgery at his age is not something I want to do. I don’t know how much of my fear is from the surgery, or from the thought of losing him in a freak complication. Either way, I know I couldn’t bear it. I’m not strong enough to lose anyone else.
The second time I took CJ to the doctor, the ear infection was doing better, but the antibiotics caused stomach problems. We went through diapers like they were nothing. Diapers are expensive, but that wasn’t the worst part—CJ was still crying. His stomach hurt and he didn’t want anything except milk, which wouldn’t stay in him. The doctor suggested giving him rice cereal. CJ disagreed and fervently let me know that he was not happy.
The third time, we were back because CJ stopped eating entirely. The crying was worse. I couldn’t tell what was wrong, but soon found out that the white spots in his mouth weren’t uneaten food. They were Thrush, which is apparently very painful—which was why he wouldn’t eat and continued to cry. I’d never seen thrush, or ever heard of it. If I’d known, I could have eased his pain sooner, but I didn’t know. I’m so scared that I’m going to make a horrible mistake, and I’m so tired. My body is screaming at me to stop, to lie down, but I can’t.
This week has rattled me to the core. It doesn't help that my mom keeps calling, every hour on the hour, to check on CJ. Rationally, I know she’s just as worried as I am. Emotionally, I feel as though I should be waiting for Child Protective Services to show up and take him away from me. What kind of mother can’t comfort her child?
CJ is tugging his ear and crying. His little face is scrunched up as he wails. I’m about to lose it. I can’t stand to hear him hurting. I try again with the medicine, but he fights me, smacking at the dropper and blocking it with his tongue.
“Come on, Baby. It’ll make you feel better. I promise. Mommy wouldn’t make you do it if it didn’t help. Come on Little Man, just a little bit.” I have him lying on the couch with his arms pinned. I manage to get the dropper between his teeth, which makes him wail. I squirt the medicine in and it goes straight down his throat, choking him. His big brown eyes look at me like I’m a monster as he gags. But, the medicine finally goes down his throat.
I scoop him up in my arms, even though he pushes me away, and start crying right along with him. I'd been so determined to prove to my parents, my friends, and everyone else that I could do this on my own. It seemed like the only way to get them off my back about remarrying. Now, I'm sitting on the couch, in the middle of a breakdown, clutching my baby and sobbing uncontrollably. When there's a knock on the door, I simply ignore it.
"Genevieve?" a male voice comes from behind me and I jump, swiveling around to see who's there. Standing in the doorway, looking at me sheepishly, is Daniel. He looks around the room and I'm mortified. The house is a mess. The kitchen smells and I haven’t taken out the garbage in two days. Add in the stuff growing in the sink and I can’t hide my horror.
Standing, I try to block the worst of the damage with my body, but nothing hides the smell. "Uh, hi Daniel. Did you need something?" I'm self-conscious at the thought of someone seeing me this way. Instantly aware of the fact that I haven't showered in two days, I'm still wearing the clothes I put on yesterday and my unwashed hair is falling out of the ponytail holder. I’m as messy and smelly as the house. Running a hand over my head in an attempt to somewhat restore order to my dark hair, I know I'm blushing furiously as Daniel looks on, a concerned frown on his face.
He points back towards the door when he says, "I heard the baby crying earlier and wanted to make sure everything was alright. Is he okay?"
I sniffle and wipe away the tears, trying to act like it’s nothing. "CJ's been sick for a few days and I can’t seem to do anything to make him feel better.” My voice cracks on the last word and I start to suck in tiny, rapid breaths like I’m going to burst into tears again. I turn away, wondering why I'm telling him this, why I'm letting him know just how awful I am as a mother. I notice CJ has finally stopped bawling and lay my sweet boy down in his playpen. The weight of CJ’s absence feels too heavy, and my hands shoot up, nervously pulling on and smoothing my hair.
That’s when Daniel steps around me and catches my eye. His expression is sympathetic, not full of the judgment I expect. He gently catches my hands and holds them in his own.
"Genevieve,” he says softly, “is there someone you can call to watch him for a little while, so you can sleep?" The idea of sleep sounds so good. I think of my mother, but being as worried as I am, she'd spend the entire time she was here helping me by suggesting more things that could go wrong.
I shake my head frantically, jerking my hands out of his. "No, I don't want to call anyone. I can’t. I can do this by myself. I have to. It’s just hard." My voice is rising, and I know I must sound hysterical.
“Everyone thinks they understand, but they can’t. They have no clue, none at all. There are no breaks. There's no one to tell when CJ does something cute or silly. There’s no one to share with, the good or the bad.
“He must hate me, Daniel. I’ve been pinning him down to force-feed him his medicine. It breaks my heart, but I don’t know how else to do it. He must hate me. When he pushes me away, I die inside. When a kid is mad at one parent, they’re supposed to be able to run to the other – but CJ has no one to run to." My voice is so screechy by the time I finish that I sound mental. I just dumped my heart out on the lawn boy. What the hell is wrong with me? I clutch my face and shove away the tears. I just want someone to know that I'm trying. I'm trying to be both mommy and daddy, and on days like today I feel like I'm failing miserably. Choking back sobs, I try to hold myself together. The past few days have taken their toll and I'm coming apart at the seams.
"Hey now, it’s okay. CJ needs you as much as you need him. You guys will be fine, you’ve just hit a rough patch.” Daniel wipes the tears from my cheeks and tips his head to the side. He holds on a beat too long, watching me too closely, before releasing me. His gaze drops and when they flick back up he seems like he’s made a decision. “Listen, if you won't let me call anyone, why don't you let me watch him for a little while? You can get a nap in, and you'll feel better.”
The auto-responder in my brain speaks for me. “No, I can’t ask you to do that.” I glance at Daniel and then down at the baby.
“If you don't take care of yourself, you won't be able to take care of CJ and he needs you."
Suddenly nervous, I start to stammer, "I can't. It’s okay, Daniel. Besides, I'm sure you have plenty of things to do." I'm embarrassed that he's seen even this much of the house, and I shudder to think what he'll see if he ventures any further inside.
He grins and folds his tanned arms over his muscular chest. “I’m not leaving.”
“Yes, you are. I’m fine now. See?” I flash him a fake smile that’s all teeth.
He laughs. “You hate asking for help. I get that, believe me, I get that—but there are times when you need it and you have no choice in the matter. Today, my friend, you are getting help from Dan the lawn man.. End of story.”
I’m tempted. I’m so tempted, but he hasn’t sold me yet. I can’t leave him alone with CJ. "Do you even know how to take care of a baby?"
"Stop," he says commandingly, and my eyes fly up to meet his. Daniel puts a hand on my back, gently pushing me towards the stairs. "Go, Genevieve. Take a nap, get some real rest. And yes, I know how to take care of a baby. I have a little sister. I've got this, I promise." Without another word, he turns and holds out his arms for CJ. My son, the little merciful traitor, lifts his hands up and Daniel takes him from the playpen and balances him on his hip. “Go on, Genevieve. We’re good here.” They head to the kitchen, chattering softly.
Defeated, I give in. Heading up the stairs, I try to decide if I’d rather take a shower or a nap. The two-day scent makes me drag my lead-filled legs to the bathroom. It's the first time in I'm not sure how long that I've been able to wash up without worrying about CJ being alone in the house. While I undress, I can hear Daniel talking to CJ through the baby monitor.
"Hey, buddy," he says, his voice low and soothing, much like it was earlier when he was talking to me. CJ was still whimpering when I went upstairs. Now I can hear his little hiccup breaths which slow and finally stop, as Daniel talks to him. "You are running your mama ragged, do you know that? She hates that you aren't feeling good, did you know that? Your mama loves you so much. She’d do anything for you. You’re a lucky man to have a lady like that—very lucky."
He's talking to CJ like he's much older than he is, and I have to cover my mouth to hide the giggles that are bubbling up inside me. Boy, I really am sleep deprived if listening to him talk to my son has me so close to hysterics. Instead of getting into the shower, I listen intently to their conversation, my heart melting at the things he's saying.
"Poor guy, you've had it pretty rough this week, huh? I don't know exactly what's been bothering you, but I know your mom's looked more upset each time I've seen her. Today, when I came up the steps to let her know I was leaving, I could hear her crying. I bet you could tell she was sad, huh? I know it made me want to comfort her, so I'm sure you wanted to too. Is that why you were crying, buddy? You wanted to make your mom feel better, but you were stuck being sick? It sucks, doesn't it? Wanting to make someone feel better but not being able to is horrible, right?"
Daniel's voice fades as they leave CJ’s room, and I find myself wishing he'd taken the monitor with him so I could continue to listen in. In the few interactions we've had, Daniel's the only one who hasn't judged me. He's never given me his opinion though, so I don't really know what he thinks I should be doing.
Wondering about his motives and what he really wants, I finally get in the shower, practically moaning—okay, maybe there wasn't any practically about it—at the feel of the hot water sluicing over my body. I take my time washing my hair and putting conditioner in, something I hardly ever use because it takes extra time, and massage my scalp. I also take my time running the loofa over my skin, slowing when I run my hand over my scarred stomach. CJ was such a big baby. Some women get away with a few lines, but my skin looks like a roadmap. I tried coconut oil and stretch mark cream, but nothing made them fade. When I was Daniel’s age, my stomach was flat and my skin was smooth and supple. I trace one of the scars with the pad of my finger, watching the soap run down my mommy thighs.
The other night was weird, dancing with him like that. I think about it as I slather soap everywhere, breathing deeply in my attempt to activate the stress relief body wash. It doesn’t work all that well for me. Maybe I’m supposed to eat it to achieve the full effect. Mommies must be the reason there are so many silly warnings on consumer products.
I smile as my thoughts linger back to dancing with Daniel. I liked the way he held me, how safe I felt in his arms. At the end of the day, life is about relationships and being alone sucks. It was nice to have someone stick up for me and not try to pry their way into my thoughts. I giggle to myself. Maybe he has a crush on me. I know I’m seriously over-tired because I’m totally over analyzing this. He’s just really sweet, that’s all.
But, it didn’t go unnoticed that he said we were friends. I never thought of him that way, but I’m glad he said it. I’d help him in a second, I know I would. He’s just been around so long that I never noticed him. Life’s weird like that. I didn’t notice how much he’s grown up until the other night. I still saw him as the high school kid that Cade hired, all wiry and awkward. But he’s not that boy anymore. We’ve both changed, for better or worse. My head is tipped so I’m leaning against the tile, half asleep. If I slip and Daniel has to come pick me up, I’ll die. I’ve suffered enough embarrassment for one day. He could tell all his friends he helped some old lady out of the shower.
I look down at my breasts as I step out of the shower and pat dry. They’re no longer as firm as they once were, and they’ve lost some of their perky youthfulness. Babies make everything point south and round out. I never really thought about what CJ did to my body. Cade’s gone, and I haven’t been trying to impress anyone. But the thoughts linger as my fingers press against the slope of my chest, and for a second I miss my old body.
Where are these thoughts coming from? This isn’t like me! I don’t linger on things that will never be. So, why the sudden upset that my body has become a little softer and my skin isn’t as silky anymore? The marks across my stomach, and the smaller ones on the sides of my breasts, came with the best present in the world—CJ.
I brush aside my wishful thoughts as the random musings of an overtired mommy. I crawl into bed and sink into the pillows. My eyes close and every thought flutters from my mind. Sleep finds me swiftly and carries me away.