Then two.
Then a month.
Most of the time, a mother would be discharged after three days post-C-section, but Faith is not a typical patient. And her mental state has everyone on edge. Daily sessions with a psychiatrist help her process what she has gone through, but she’s weak, exhausted after minimal output. Her emotional recovery is a slow and tedious one.
She is also having twice daily physical therapy as she recovers from spending so many months in a hospital bed.
Added to that, our daughter was a preemie and considering that her mother was in a coma for the entire pregnancy, they want to give her as much care and attention as possible.
I hold my baby day and night. She is my heart, my light, my everything.
Her mother is more distant with each and every passing day.
I name her Ocean. Faith would have wanted that.
But every day Faith is further and further away.
The doctors say she is suffering from posttraumatic stress, but also postpartum depression — she can’t handle being around us, she is a wreck, hysterical every time we try.
And the most heartbreaking thing is knowing exactly why.
If she had never met me, this would never have happened.
A reporter comes out to do a story on this unprecedented situation — a coma, pregnancy, and selective amnesia create a sensational story — and while Tanner holds firm that no tabloids can do a story on us — when asked for an interview, we decide to let them share the miracle of our daughter’s birth with the world.
The cover of the issue is of Faith, holding our baby. The headline reads, “Miracles Still Exist.”
Do they ever.
I make one comment for the reporter, “I hope, with all my heart, that one day Faith will remember the day that brought our daughter into the world. But we’re just grateful mother and child are healthy, whole — and most of all, that they are here.”
Faith’s spirits lift when the issue is published, but she stares at the cover as if willing the headline to change. As if hoping she can manifest another story.
One without any missing chapters.
At six weeks, I am ready to bring my daughter home. To leave the hospital. And Ocean is ready too.
“It’s time to take her home with you, Jonah,” the pediatrician tells me, Tanner and Virginia at my side. “Ocean is healthy, thriving, and you both need a routine that isn’t the hospital.”
It hurts to hear the truth.
Tanner and Virginia wrap one another in hugs. Faith is healthy, whole too — a miracle none of us ever knew if we’d see.
But Faith hasn’t come to terms with motherhood, with me. With the life, we decided to create all those months ago.
“Ocean needs her mother,” I say, holding my baby against my chest. I understand the concern, though; a sterile hospital is no place for a healthy baby. She needs her home.
“We know. And Faith will be moving back home in the next twenty-four hours. You will schedule visits, and hopefully, with time—”
I cut him off. “That with time she’ll want Ocean in her life?” I kiss Ocean’s head, wishing we could start over. Hating this for all of us. That Ocean could have the life I’ve dreamed for her. One where her mother is present.
“I know it isn’t ideal, Jonah,” the doctor says. “But until seeing you and Ocean no longer triggers her, we need to take caution. The most important thing is everyone being healthy. Being well.”
I blink back tears, my face a constant fucking waterfall. It’s time to bring my baby girl home. It should be joyous, a day of love and laughter.
Instead, it’s nothing but heartbreak.
Chapter Fourteen
Faith
When I close my eyes, I see light. I see hope. I see a glimmer of a life I might have had. Smiles. Glittering water. Part of me knows there is something between Jonah and me… there is someone in my dreams and maybe it’s him.
But when I try to see his face, everything turns gray.
I try to hold Ocean; a name Jonah came up with. And it feels right. When he suggested it to me, referencing my book, The Great Whale and his Golden Girl, I realized he truly does know me. He knows the things that matter.
But then he walks into my hospital room, Ocean in his arms, so sure of this. Of us. And I my head begins to throb. My heart tightens. I hate what I’ve forgotten, but I can’t fake it. I can’t pretend to love a man I don’t know.
And Jonah is a man. He holds Ocean with arms so strong, so sure. He looks at our daughter with eyes so full of light and love I know he is a good, true man made to be a father. A provider. A man who knows what it means to love deep and wide.
But he is so much more than I know how to handle. I can’t remember being intimate with him — anyone — and the idea that I bared my soul to him, a man so masculine and in control makes me feel small and impossibly young. Childlike. How could I have been with someone so courageous when I feel so innocent? So naive.
So damn stupid.
Why can’t I remember?
I have my journal in my lap, sitting on the couch in my hospital room. Today I am going home, back to Dad’s place. And I’m happy to leave the hospital, but I’m also a hormonal wreck. My breasts are constantly full, and I pump my milk so Ocean can have it… but whenever I try to nurse her, I begin to cry, cry until my shoulders shake and the nurse takes Ocean away, bringing her to Jonah who is strong enough to hold her. To feed her. To care for her.
Strong enough for the both of us.
I try to write out my thoughts. That's what the psychiatrist has suggested I do as I attempt to take control of my life. Yes, I had a baby while I was in a coma, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn to connect to this new part of myself — this person who is half me, half Jonah. It’s hard, and I am being reminded by everyone around me to be patient, to go slow, to trust myself.
Everyone I guess, except Jonah. He doesn’t say anything like that; doesn’t look at me like Virginia does. She says, “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s a lot to take in.”
He doesn’t talk like Dad, who says, “Everyone is rooting for you, be gentle with yourself.”
Jonah doesn’t talk like the women on the mountain, either. Rosie and Stella, Laila and Grace, who come with flowers and food. Hugs. I know they spend time with Ocean before they come to see me. And they look at me with pity, with bleeding hearts. With encouraging words, they probably found on Pinterest boards. I know it’s meant to help — all of it.
But it doesn’t.
The only thing that soothes my worried mind, calms my restless soul, is when Jonah walks in the room with Ocean in his arms.
Jonah doesn’t say much. But what he does say always makes me cry.
For what we lost. For what he is so certain we will find again.
“I love you, Faith.”
“I love you.”
“I fucking love you.”
His words are the most simple, but they feel so damn true.
And I want to believe him.
That he does love me. That
in the space of a day we met and fell in love and made a person that was knit together in my womb.
“I’ve been here every day for months, Faith,” he tells me. “I won’t leave you now.”
And when Ocean sleeps in the hospital nursery, the nurses tell me Jonah sleeps right outside my door. They tell me he never leaves. That I am his one true love.
That I am his.
And so, I write in my journal, the one with the notes for my book, The Great Whale and The Golden Girl, my prayer.
I know that waking up was a miracle. That growing a healthy baby despite my condition was an answered prayer.
And maybe it’s greedy. To want more when I already have been given back my life.
But I need one more thing.
I need to remember what it was like to fall in love.
“It’s time to go, sweetie,” Dad says, entering the room with Clover and Willa, Doctor Martin behi
nd them. My sisters take my bags and smile, but I know they are sad for me. For what’s too hard for me to accept. That I am a mother.
“Did Ocean leave?” I ask.
Dad nods. “Jonah took her to his place an hour ago. They came and said goodbye, didn’t they?”
I nod. “Yeah, I just… I don’t know Dad, maybe I’m messing up.”
“Messing what up, Faith?” he asks, setting down my bags. Resting his hands on my shoulders. Doctor Martin steps closer, listening to the conversation.
“Maybe I should try harder. I mean, Mom would never have left any of her babies like this. I remember when Clover and Cash were born. She was sick but she… she was by their side day and night and I’m not even… I’m not even going to be in the same house.”
Willa takes my hand. “It felt different when you knew her, and Jonah were at the hospital?”
I nod, my chest tightening as I realize that’s what this is about. “Yeah, I mean, I feel really overwhelmed, but… this whole time I knew she was only down the hall. But now… I want her to know me.”
“Faith, she knows you,” Dad says. “She has your hair, your nose, your smile. She was formed within you, a few miles distance won’t change what is in her heart.”
I blink back the tears. “Maybe not, but it will change what is in my heart. I need to be closer to her than I am now.”
“As a medical professional, everything about this case is unprecedented, Faith. But if you have a strong desire to be closer to your daughter, everyone will support you in that.” Doctor Martin and my Dad share a look. “Jonah can bring Ocean to you, to your father’s home. And you can care for her there, with your family’s help.”
My eyes widen, I shake my head. “No. No, Ocean needs Jonah. Her father. He is the one who knows her best, he has to be the one to take care of her.”
Dad frowns. “Faith, I don’t understand, sweetheart. What is it you want?”
I take a deep breath. I don’t understand why I am having this overwhelming urge to be with Jonah and Ocean, but I know deep in my heart I belong with them.
I don’t know what it might look like, they are strangers to me.
But they are also my family now.
And I need to find out who they are.
Chapter Fifteen
Jonah
Josie, Beau, Cherish, and James are all waiting at the house when I arrive with Ocean. They have balloons tied to the front porch, food waiting on the table, coffee on.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I say, unbuckling Ocean from her car seat, but deep down, I’m so happy to see my friends.
“Jonah, don’t be insane. You need all the help you can get,” Josie says.
Cherish chimes in: “You’re used to around the clock help from the nurses at the hospital. A night alone with a baby can be a little overwhelming.”
I chuckle, resting Ocean against my chest. “Says the woman who brought triplets to a shack in the woods on her own.”
James wraps an arm around his wife. “That’s true, babe. I think you’re underestimating Jonah.”
Beau shakes his head. “No man on this mountain underestimates Jonah. You’ve fucking taken it to the proving grounds.”
I exhale, looking around my place, and accept the cup of coffee that Cherish hands me. “You guys seriously made this place amazing.”
No more boxes or bachelor furnishings.
“Well, Stella’s a pro. She had a vision,” Josie says with a smile. “We were just her heavy lifters.”
I carry the bag from the hospital into the nursery , taking in the details, seeing the house in a new light now that Ocean is here. The walls are washed in a soft grey, a chandelier that sparkles with seashells. The sheets on the crib have tiny mermaids printed on them, the rocking chair is upholstered in sea-foam green, the pillow resting on it reading, Dream Big, Little Mermaid.
“Everything looks okay?” Josie asks, catching me in the nursery alone.
“It looks great,” I tell her. “I can never thank you enough.”
“Stop it,” she says. “So, how did it go saying goodbye to Faith today?”
“Question of the hour, right?” I groan. “I don’t know what’s going on in her head. She is so sad, Josie. I don’t think it’s Ocean and me; I think it’s this longing for memories she can’t find, for the months she lost. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, the idea that it isn’t us that makes her upset… but God, I hope that’s the truth.”
“When will she see Ocean?” Josie’s eyes are knit with concern, and I understand why. Everyone on this mountain is praying for a light switch to flip inside Faith, for her to want to be with Ocean. It’s scary, the idea that she may not connect with her own flesh and blood.
“I’ll take her to Tanner’s tomorrow. The doctor suggested we try that twice a day, for however long Faith can manage. Hopefully, eventually, it can be for longer.” I want to say that hopefully, it will be forever. That Faith will crawl out of the dark place she is in; that she can have the life she was made for. One of happiness, joy, and beauty.
“Someone’s pulling up,” Beau calls from the living room. The cabin is small, two bedrooms and an open kitchen and living room, so it’s easy to hear everything. I step out of the nursery with Josie, Ocean in my arms, hearing tires against the gravel.
“It’s Tanner’s truck,” Cherish says, her eyes meeting mine.
My heart stills, praying that there isn’t more bad news waiting for me. I run my hand over my daughter’s head, knowing her first weeks on this mountain haven’t been easy. The last thing we need is another crisis.
Beau opens the door, the December frost heavy in the air, and I reach for a blanket, covering my little one. Needing to keep her warm. Safe.
In Tanner’s truck sits Faith. Her eyes meet mine through the window. See me, I beg silently. Remember us, I pray.
Tanner walks inside, closes the door. Alone. Faith doesn’t leave the truck.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
Tanner nods. “Faith says she wants to stay here, with you and Ocean.”
Josie and Cherish gasp. This is good news, and we all know it.
“Why didn’t she come in with you?”
Tanner runs a hand over his beard. “She’s pretty nervous. About you accepting her, about taking care of Ocean. She needs a lot of help, Jonah. You know that.”
I nod, I’ve been seeing a therapist every week since Faith entered the coma, and I have processed at length the extra help Faith needs right now. I have learned all about PTSD, postpartum depression, and how Faith is struggling to cope. She isn’t in danger of hurting herself, or anyone — her doctors are confident in that. The main goal for her is that she gains confidence in her new role as a mother.
“If she comes here,” Tanner says, “I just…” He pauses, sighing. “Well for one, do you want her here, and two, do you think you can do this? Take care of both Faith and Ocean?”
I stand there, thinking what he is saying through, grateful that Tanner and I have come to accept our relationship, and that we need one another in ways we never anticipated. At first, I saw him as this dominating patriarch, but I’ve learned this love for his family runs as deep as the roots of the trees that cover this mountain.
“Tanner, Faith coming here, being here with me and Ocean, it’s all I want.”
Josie steps forward. “Cherish and I can come and help out, be another set of hands. I know Virginia is busy with your little guy.”
Tanner nods. “I’d appreciate that. I get worried. She’s my little girl.”
I rest my hand on Tanner’s shoulder. “She’s safe with me, sir.”
Tanner chokes back tears, pulling me into a hug. “I know, son, I know she is.”
To others, the exchange might have seemed unimportant, but everyone in this room knows how much Tanner’s words mean. When I step back, James’ eyes meet mine and now he gets it. We lost our families when we left the church where we were raised — lost so damn much. To have the
father of the woman I love believe in me? It means the goddamn world.
“We’re gonna scoot out,” Josie says, Beau at her heels, Cherish and James behind them. “The kids are with a sitter and we need to get back. But call us, Jonah, if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“And Harper set up a food tree, so you’ll be set for the next month, three meals a day.”
I smile. “God, does that woman ever sleep?”
They chuckle as they leave through the front door. Ocean is stirring in my arms. I wonder if Faith will want to hold her when she comes inside.
“If it’s good with you, then, I’m gonna let Faith come in on her own, let the three of you get settled without the old man around.”
“You’re not in the way, Tanner. Stay as long as you want.”
“I know I’m welcome, but I have a family at home who needs me. Your family is here, Jonah.” He leans over, kissing Ocean’s head before heading outside. I watch him through the open door, speaking with Faith who has climbed out of the truck. Tanner sets her suitcase on the ground, and she reaches for an oversized tote bag. From the looks of it, they made a stop at the farmhouse before coming here.
She hugs her father, then waves goodbye. He drives off and she picks up her bags and walks toward me. She’s in black leggings and Ugg boots, a black winter parka with fur on the edge of the hood. There is a bite in the December air, and I want her to come inside.
Her long strawberry blonde hair hangs around her shoulders, she doesn’t have on a stitch of makeup. Her eyes are wide, taking everything in. The timber on the roofline, the forest surrounding the cabin, the icy lake in the distance. What does she see when she looks it over? Does she remember any of it?
I know what I think when I look at her. I know that she is home.
Chapter Sixteen
Faith
When I stand before the cabin, looking at Jonah and Ocean in the doorway, waiting for me, my heart pounds. I want to remember, to know them. But my mind is blank.
FAITHFUL: The Mountain Man’s Babies Page 6