Page 95 of Fall Love

She’s so tiny. So delicate. And yet, she already has so much personality.

And I love her fiercely. The kind of fierceness I didn’t know could exist. The kind of love I’d never even imagined.

When Tate eventually takes Wren and me to his home after her birth, I don’t squawk at the idea. I give in to the argument. His place has more space.

For someone so little and new to the world, we quickly learn how much space a baby can take up. The baby swing. The baby bouncy seat. The portable changing table and crib combination we keep on the first floor, so we don’t have to keep going up and down the stairs for the endless diaper changes.

I’m nursing and healing from the birth, and I move through time as if my body is not my own.

Two weeks pass like I’m in a fog, and Tate is my lighthouse through it all.

Every baby cry and poop, Tate is beside me. We take turns losing sleep and trying to catch up on it. When I nurse, Tate sits behind me sometimes, like a personal boyfriend pillow, not wanting to miss a single moment.

During this time, I don’t concentrate on who Tate and I are. We are Wren’s parents. We function solely for her.

One afternoon while sitting in Tate’s family room, Lumi asks the same question she’s been asking at each visit. “How are you doing?”

“I never thought I’d feel love like this,” I admit. “But I also feel so lost.” Am I already a bad mother?

“I remember the feeling.” Her gentle smile reminds me that Lumi had been a much younger single mother once.

“You’ll figure it out,” she tries to reassure me.

“Will I?” Mothering doesn’t feel natural to me, yet I do appear to be acting on instinct. I hold Wren when she cries, attempting to soothe her. I feed her when it’s time to be fed. I change her and bathe her, but does she know how much I love her? And, how much I don’t want to fail her?

“How are you and Tate?”

“Well, we aren’t having sex,” I joke, instantly hating the jab.

Tate is out of the room, taking a shower. Something I desperately need myself. I’m wearing one of Tate’s flannel shirts and loose leggings that could probably walk themselves to the washing machine.

Lumi gives me a hesitant smile. “You need time to heal.”

“I know.” I sigh. “I shouldn’t have said that.” I pause a second, checking over my shoulder for some reason. “We’ve been so much more in some ways.”

Silent partners. Steady companions. We understand each other’s exhaustion. We support each other on this crazy ride we’ve begun.

Slowly, Lumi’s mouth curls. “This is good, right?”

“It feels good,” I admit. Almost too good. It’s been almost easy, melding our lives together.

But the truth is, Tate only has two weeks of paternity time. Initially, he shut off his phone, and I don’t recall him opening a laptop in the past few days, but he’ll return to work soon. Even if he’s remote, he still needs to concentrate, and he’s already told me he needs to go to New York in a week for a week.

I don’t know if I’m ready to go home, to my house, alone. Or to be separated from him. Do this parent thing without him by my side.

But the fear is so much more than just about Wren.

I’m going to miss him when he’s gone, and I’ve never missed anyone in the past.

“I’m so happy for you,” Lumi says, reaching for my arm. “Mom and Dad are happy, too.”

“Sweet autumn, Lumi.” I hiss at the sudden sting in my eyes. “Did you have to go there?” I laugh, choking on a sob.

“Just want you to know. I think Dad would have been so happy for you. Now you understand how much he loved his girls.”

Because I have one of my own. I swipe at the first tear, nabbing it from the corner of my eye, just as Tate’s feet hit the hardwood floor.

He comes up behind me, grips my shoulders as he stands behind the couch, and kisses the top of my head. “She’s still sleeping?” He must be looking at Wren in Lumi’s arms.