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Story: Tiny Precious Secrets
I lean down and kiss her. “It was my mother’s.”
“Oh.” Allie examines it with hesitation.
When it dawns on me what she must be thinking, I add, “Nobody has ever worn it but you. I mean, and my mother.”
“Stella didn’t…?”
“My mother was a huge believer in soulmates. When Dad gave me the ring after she died, I knew it could only go to one person. Stella wasn’t that person. I don’t even know how I knew. But now I know it was meant for you all along.”
“Quit being so cheesy,” Bug says behind me.
When I turn, however, she’s crying. Hopefully my daughter believes in soulmates too. Because I wish nothing more for my children than to find someone who completes them as well as Allie does me.
“Get over here,” I say to Bug.
She joins us, her on one side of Allie’s bed and me on the other.
I get out my phone, hold my arm out, and take our very first family photo.
Chapter Forty-five
Allie
I stare down at Alex as he finishes nursing, unable to believe he’s been here for two weeks when it feels like he’s been a part of my life forever. Gazing across the room at my mom holding Christina, it’s hard for me to think of a time they weren’t with us.
When I put him on my shoulder to burp him, Isla, the night nurse Mom and Dad hired us for the month, swoops in and gets him. “Let me do that, dear,” she says in her proper English accent that has started grating on my nerves.
I straighten my top then look around the room. This just feels wrong. Sad, and fearing I’m suffering from postpartum depression, I pick up a few used burp rags and take them back to the laundry room. While I’m there, I switch a load from the washer to the dryer. Back in the kitchen, I find a mostly warm, half-drunk bottle of soda and throw it out. I glance around the kitchen for something else to do, but there’s just nothing.
The dishes are clean. I did that earlier. The food’s been put away. Bug helped with that. Even the floor has been swept. That was Asher’s job.
I sit heavily on a barstool and gaze out into the living room. Mom and Isla are chatting away while holding, burping, swaying, and tending to every one of the twins’ needs.
Out of nowhere, I start to cry. I full-on sob.
Arms come around me. “Hey there. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
I turn and bury my face in Asher’s chest. “Everything.”
His silent chuckle bounces my head around. “It’s your hormones. They’re all over the place. Why don’t you go get some rest?”
I shake my head defiantly. “I don’t need rest.”
“It’ll get better, Allie. Recovering from having two babies is hard. Your body must be going through a lot right now.”
I pull away from him. “That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know.” I wipe a tear. “It’s just… everything.”
He showers me with a few quick kisses and an empathetic smile. He thinks I’m depressed.
Maybe all new moms feel this way. Like they aren’t doing enough. Like they’re completely inadequate. Like they can’t be the supermom all their friends seem to be.
Maybe Iamdepressed.
I glance back into the other room, watching Mom and Isla holdingmychildren. If it’s not Mom and Isla, it’s Mia and Marti, or Ren and Ellie, or Regan and Addy. While Isla is here twelve hours every day starting at six pm, my family and friends all take turns with the day shift, making sure there are always two of them around to give me a break.
“Oh.” Allie examines it with hesitation.
When it dawns on me what she must be thinking, I add, “Nobody has ever worn it but you. I mean, and my mother.”
“Stella didn’t…?”
“My mother was a huge believer in soulmates. When Dad gave me the ring after she died, I knew it could only go to one person. Stella wasn’t that person. I don’t even know how I knew. But now I know it was meant for you all along.”
“Quit being so cheesy,” Bug says behind me.
When I turn, however, she’s crying. Hopefully my daughter believes in soulmates too. Because I wish nothing more for my children than to find someone who completes them as well as Allie does me.
“Get over here,” I say to Bug.
She joins us, her on one side of Allie’s bed and me on the other.
I get out my phone, hold my arm out, and take our very first family photo.
Chapter Forty-five
Allie
I stare down at Alex as he finishes nursing, unable to believe he’s been here for two weeks when it feels like he’s been a part of my life forever. Gazing across the room at my mom holding Christina, it’s hard for me to think of a time they weren’t with us.
When I put him on my shoulder to burp him, Isla, the night nurse Mom and Dad hired us for the month, swoops in and gets him. “Let me do that, dear,” she says in her proper English accent that has started grating on my nerves.
I straighten my top then look around the room. This just feels wrong. Sad, and fearing I’m suffering from postpartum depression, I pick up a few used burp rags and take them back to the laundry room. While I’m there, I switch a load from the washer to the dryer. Back in the kitchen, I find a mostly warm, half-drunk bottle of soda and throw it out. I glance around the kitchen for something else to do, but there’s just nothing.
The dishes are clean. I did that earlier. The food’s been put away. Bug helped with that. Even the floor has been swept. That was Asher’s job.
I sit heavily on a barstool and gaze out into the living room. Mom and Isla are chatting away while holding, burping, swaying, and tending to every one of the twins’ needs.
Out of nowhere, I start to cry. I full-on sob.
Arms come around me. “Hey there. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
I turn and bury my face in Asher’s chest. “Everything.”
His silent chuckle bounces my head around. “It’s your hormones. They’re all over the place. Why don’t you go get some rest?”
I shake my head defiantly. “I don’t need rest.”
“It’ll get better, Allie. Recovering from having two babies is hard. Your body must be going through a lot right now.”
I pull away from him. “That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know.” I wipe a tear. “It’s just… everything.”
He showers me with a few quick kisses and an empathetic smile. He thinks I’m depressed.
Maybe all new moms feel this way. Like they aren’t doing enough. Like they’re completely inadequate. Like they can’t be the supermom all their friends seem to be.
Maybe Iamdepressed.
I glance back into the other room, watching Mom and Isla holdingmychildren. If it’s not Mom and Isla, it’s Mia and Marti, or Ren and Ellie, or Regan and Addy. While Isla is here twelve hours every day starting at six pm, my family and friends all take turns with the day shift, making sure there are always two of them around to give me a break.
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