Chapter 11 - THE FIRST NIGHT WITHOUT HIM
I brought Nora to Rachel’s house two days later.
Mark stood in the hospital lobby as I left.
He did not create a scene.
His lawyer had probably advised him not to.
He kissed Nora’s forehead.
Then he looked at me.
“When can I see her?”
The question hurt because it sounded normal.
Like we were ordinary separated parents.
Like there had never been a folder.
“Laura will contact your attorney.”
His mouth tightened.
“I don’t want to talk to my daughter through lawyers.”
“She’s three days old.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
“Do I get to see her tomorrow?”
I hesitated.
Then I said, “If Diane is not present.”
His face hardened.
“You can’t control who I see.”
“No.”
“But I can decide whether I am comfortable bringing a premature newborn around someone who has repeatedly threatened to remove her from my care.”
“Mom never threatened to remove her.”
I pulled out my phone.
I read Diane’s message aloud.
“If you are going to behave irrationally, perhaps it is better that the baby have stable people prepared to step in.”
Mark said nothing.
I put the phone away.
“Tomorrow at Rachel’s.”
“Two hours.”
“Just you.”
He nodded.
I left.
The first night at Rachel’s should have been peaceful.
Instead, I barely slept.
Every sound from the bassinet terrified me.
Every pause in Nora’s breathing made me lean over to check her.
At 3:00 a.m., she refused to latch.
I cried.
At 3:20, she finally ate.
I cried again.
At 4:00, she spit up on my shirt.
At 4:30, I changed her diaper and put the clean diaper on backward.
At 5:00, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.
My hair was tangled.
My eyes were swollen.
My body hurt.
For one terrifying moment, Diane’s words returned.
Unstable.
Overwhelmed.
Unable to cope.
I gripped the sink.
Then Rachel appeared behind me.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s an acceptable answer.”
I laughed weakly.
“I put the diaper on backward.”
Rachel shrugged.
“My first kid wore her shirt backward to daycare for half a day.”
“That’s different.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“It’s parenting.”
I started crying.
“What if they use everything?”
“Use what?”
“That I’m tired.”
“You gave birth three days ago.”
“That I cry.”
“You gave birth three days ago.”
“That I’m scared.”
“You gave birth three days ago.”
I covered my face.
Rachel hugged me.
“You are allowed to be human.”
Those words saved me more than once.
Mark arrived at noon.
He brought flowers.
I almost hated him for that.
For still knowing I liked white lilies.
For remembering something tender while everything else between us had become so ugly.
He washed his hands without being asked.
Then he held Nora on the sofa.
She slept against him.
For almost an hour, the room felt strangely normal.
He asked about feeding.
I asked whether he wanted to burp her.
He changed a diaper.
Badly.
I almost smiled.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Diane.
He declined it.
Thirty seconds later, it rang again.
He declined it.
Then a message appeared.
I couldn’t read the whole thing.
Only the first words.
DID SHE LET YOU—
Mark turned the phone over.
I looked at him.
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s obviously not true.”
“She knows I’m here.”
“How?”
He didn’t answer.
My stomach tightened.
“You told her.”
“She asked where I was.”
“So you told her.”
“She’s worried.”
I stood slowly.
“Visit’s over.”
“Emily.”
“I said no Diane.”
“She isn’t here.”
“She’s participating through you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No.”
I pointed toward the door.
“Please go.”
He put Nora carefully into the bassinet.
Then he stood.
“You’re making co-parenting impossible.”
“No.”
“I’m making your mother’s involvement conditional.”
“You hate her.”
“I’m afraid of what she’s willing to do.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No, Mark.”
“It really isn’t.”
He stared at me.
Then he said quietly, “She was right about one thing.”
My body went cold.
“What?”
“You’ve changed.”
For months, that sentence would have devastated me.
That day, I nodded.
“Yes.”
He looked surprised.
“I have.”
May you like
I opened the door.
“I had to.”
