by Gail Haris
“See? So why are you mad?”
I give him a pointed stare. A slow smile spreads across his beautiful face. I swallow my pride and continue, “the point is, I was wrong, and I’m sorry. You’re right about what you said. I’m scared, Trent. I’m so scared. All of this has made me miss Landon more. He’s the person who I would go to during a time like this, but he’s gone. Being back here. Maybe I’m still grieving him, and now, I’m grieving my carefree life I shared with him, as well.”
Trent sits up in bed and pulls me close. “I’m here for you. You can talk to me during the hard times, too.” He tilts my chin up to meet his eyes.
“Yeah, but I can’t talk shit about you to you.”
“I’m serious.” He pinches my chin and then moves his hand to my back.
“I am, too.”
“Rach, babe, there are a lot of people who want to help you. They want to feed, bathe and change Ella’s diapers. For the love of God, if we have someone who’s willing to change shitty diapers, Babe, let them. Accept the help. You’re not a failure if you allow others to feed her, so you can eat. Allow someone to give her a bath, so you can go take yours. You need ‘you’ time, so you can unwind and rest. It doesn’t make you a bad mom for taking some time for yourself. You need it. She needs it, too, so her mommy is refreshed. Daddy needs it, too.”
“Daddy needs it?”
Trent wiggles his eyebrows and gives me a naughty smirk. “Yes. Daddy needs Mommy to be rested up, so she has enough energy to play with him, too.” He begins to turn on his side, toward me, when Gabriella decides to make that her moment to wake up. He kisses my forehead and then slides off the bed to stand. “Get dressed. I’m going to go get her changed and then take her to Mom’s. Then we’re going out to eat. After we eat, you’re going to go have some Rachel time.”
Pulling up a pair of boxers, he smiles at me. He leans over and cups my cheek. “He’s not gone. You can still go talk to him. You went and told him when we found out we were having a baby. Go visit Landon. Go for a drive. Take a breather. Even if it’s only for an hour. Ella will be fine, I promise.”
Part of me wants to argue. I want to protest and reject the idea of leaving her. Another part of me is thrilled by the idea of going out to eat and visiting Landon’s grave. I watch him stand and throw on a shirt. He exits the room while I remain in bed. I hear him cooing and being silly. My eyes tear up again, and my face hurts from smiling so big.
Visiting Landon’s grave helped me tremendously. Putting on makeup and walking out of the house, not wearing sweatpants, made me feel like a new woman. I spoke to Melissa about my moods, and she gave me the number of her therapist. I’m most likely going through Postpartum depression. Of course, I Googled it, and my symptoms are a close match. I’m not just going crazy, yay, and one in four women experience it. Alice found me a support group online and that’s been so rewarding. Even if I don’t comment or post, it’s nice to read that I’m not alone. And I’m not the only one who throws a pillow at people in the middle of the night.
Bexley called to check on me and told me to cut myself some slack. “Why are you being so hard on yourself? You literally pushed seven pounds out of your vagina! Your body has been put through the ringer. Be moody. You deserve to. It’s your fuckin’ right after just producing life. Don’t feel like you have to have it all together. People have been raising babies for centuries and are still messing it up. Nobody knows what in the hell they’re doing. Relax, Chicka. Leave your perfect, beautiful baby with one of her loving grandmothers and go take a bubble bath and sleep. Not sleep in the bubble bath, that could go bad. Wash your week’s worth of grime and then go to your bed. Don’t give me your guilt bullshit. The answer is simple, you’re allowed to feel whatever the fuck you want to feel and you’re allowed to sleep.”
As inspiring and poetic as Bexley is, after the holidays, I plan to start therapy sessions.
Today, I’m all smiles when we walk over to the Randall’s house for Christmas. Ella is wearing a red dress that her Aunt Denise got her. After we have lunch with Trent’s parents, we go to my parents’ house.
As soon as the truck pulls into the driveway, the front door flies open. Mom runs out. “I’m ready to see my girl.”
As soon as I’m within reach, she takes Ella. “There’s our beautiful baby girl.” Mom barely spares me and Trent a glance as she takes Gabriella and runs into the house with her. “Quinn! Here she is.”
Trent and I shake our heads at each other. I sigh. “This has taken an interesting turn.”
“For the better.” Trent carries two gift boxes for my parents and the diaper bag.
“Need me to carry something? My arms are free now.”
He shakes his head, and we enter the house. Dad and Mom are sitting on the couch, cooing and singing praises of how perfect their granddaughter is. The tree is fully decorated with several gifts tucked underneath.
“Ready to open your gifts?”
Of course, Gabriella just lays there because she’s not even a month old. I’m so thrilled, though, that my parents have come around and are embracing the idea of being grandparents. Trent and I sit back and enjoy watching my parents as they take turns holding her and opening gifts. Ella could care less, but the joy on my parents’ face is precious.
When we get home, I feed Ella and lay her down in her crib. After, I go in the living room and sit down on Trent’s lap. “This was a great day.”
“It’s not over yet.” Trent pats my hips.
“It’s not.”
“Go look under the tree.”
I peek under the tree and find a small box. I pull it out and also grab the box I have hidden under the tree for him. We both grin at each other as we exchange gifts.
Trent looks down at his gift from me. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Same goes for you. You already gave me perfume.”
“Yeah, but that was also me trying to butter you up.”
“I knew it!”
“Open your real present.”
“Okay.” I tear open the wrapping to find a silver box. I open it. There’s a gift card for a spa day inside. “Trent! This is too much.”
“No. It’s a full spa package. Go and relax. Get pampered.” I kiss him and whisper thank you against his lips again.
I rush over to the tree and reach behind it. It takes two hands to carry the long and wide box. Handing it to Trent, I tell him to open his. He rips the package, and his megawatt smile has my heart fluttering.
“What? When did you take this? I love you. Ha. I—I don’t know what to say other than I love you. It’s perfect.”
Trent holds the framed portrait of him and Landon. It’s a photo I’d taken two years ago. I’d gone through a photography stage and always had a camera. They’re laughing with an arm around each other. It’s my all-time favorite photo.
He wipes the corners of his eyes and then smiles at me. He gently places the frame down. “Come here,” he tells me in a husky voice. I lean forward, and he takes my face in his hands.
We cherish the five minutes of passionate kissing before Gabriella lets us know she’s awake.
I had my first session with Mrs. Rita Dawson, and she did diagnose me with postpartum depression and anxiety. We also discussed my trauma from losing Landon. The session was good, and I plan to continue going, a couple more weeks at least.
After my session, I felt a need to speak with Landon. I’m taking Gabriella with me. I park Trent’s SUV on the small gravel road that circles through the cemetery. Generations of the Randall family are buried in this small, old cemetery. It’s not as well-kept or as easy to get to, as the ones in town. Instead, this one is off a gravel road with a small church. At night, it’s beyond creepy since there are only the lights around the church, so we would always drive through here around Halloween. In the day time, though, it’s therapeutic. With the quietness of the cemetery, I can speak freely.
I get out of the car and walk around to retrieve Ella f
rom her car seat, along with a blanket. I carry her around the different headstones until we reach the large black marble stone. LANDON TAYLOR RANDALL. I lay the blanket down for us to sit on. I hold her in my lap propped against me. She wobbles as I get us situated. She can hold her head up, but that’s about it.
“This is where we come to talk with Uncle Landon. He’s your guardian angel,” I coo to her. Then I look to the stone and say, “Lanny, this is your beautiful niece, Gabriella Lane Randall. But we’ve started calling her Ella for short. It’s about time you two meet.”
As I’m telling Landon that I’m unsure about finishing my teaching degree and I’m not sure if that’s really what I want to do, I spot a dragonfly. I tell my daughter how a group of dragonflies inspired her nickname while I was pregnant. I guess if I’d known I was having a girl, I might’ve even considered the name Reagan.”
“Reagan Dragonfly. Reagan the Dragonfly.” I look down at Ella. “I could sure tell you some stories about your uncle. He was a mess.” I smile up to the sky and then look back down at her. “He probably came back as a firefly because he had a personality that just shined. Yes. Yes, he did. He’d shine his light everywhere he went.” A gentle breeze blows by and circles me. I hold Gabriella tighter, and it feels as though the wind is hugging us. The breeze releases its hold and a sense of excitement comes over me. I kiss the headstone, and we tell Landon bye. I smile up at the sky. He’s watching me, I know. He’s probably rolling his eyes and shaking his head at me.
That night, after putting my precious girl in her crib, I begin writing out little stories. Most are memories with a little extra added. Alice comes over to visit, and I tell her my crazy idea.
“I want to try writing a children’s book about a little dragonfly named Reagan and her best friend Lanny, who’s a firefly.”
Alice smiles and laughs. “That sounds fun. Yeah, you should definitely go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose. Never know ‘til you try, right?”
“I want you to illustrate it.”
Alice chokes and stares at me wide-eyed. “Excuse me?”
“I want you to illustrate it. You love to draw. You love Ella, and I think you could incorporate her features into the story.”
“Loving my niece has nothing to do with your book. You want me to make a dragonfly that resembles Ella?”
“I want you to incorporate some of her features into the character, yes. Also, the firefly needs to have a Landon vibe. You can do this. Let’s just try it out. What do we have to lose, right? Never know ‘til we try, right? Right?”
She rolls her eyes, but then with a sigh, nods her head in agreement. She looks around the house and then asks where Trent is, so I tell her that he went for a job interview.
“Really? That’s exciting!”
“It is! He is applying at the clinic. He’s hoping to get started there and still get his doctorate through online courses.”
“Noah mentioned that he’s been hanging out with his buddies, Keaton Sloan and Jeff McClish, on occasion.”
“He has. I’m really glad. He needs friends and guy time.”
“That goes for you, too, Rach.”
“What do you call what we’re doing now? This is girl time.” We visit for a little while longer until Alice needs to leave, so she doesn’t arrive on campus too late with the drive. I skip around the house, finally feeling like my old self again: the me, before everything changed, and I lost so much. I feel inspired and excited. I feel young and hopeful. I feel…happy.
“You got the job!” “I got the job!” Trent and I shout and dance around.
“I need to find a job.”
“How will you find time to work, Rach? We have Ella, and classes are about to start back. Don’t stress, Babe.”
Trent has a point, but he’s been taking on the burden of our expenses. What little I had saved is gone, and my student loans are for school. Our parents have chipped in on baby expenses, and we received so much from the baby shower. I’m independent, though, and I want to feel like I’m contributing.
Plus, tell me I can’t do something, and I’ll prove you wrong.
I spend the rest of the afternoon searching for jobs that would work with my schedule. I don’t want to leave Gabriella, but the library is hiring. I could work part-time and work on my studies while there. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Feeling a new sense of determination, I reluctantly leave Gabriella with Melissa.
First, I go and apply at the library. Then I drive to the University in Lexington to meet with my advisor. Classes start next week, but I’m hoping I can still make adjustments to my schedule. After explaining my desire to write, I have my classes and new schedule to double major in elementary education and creative writing.
The next couple of weeks, I leave Ella with Melissa and spend my time working mornings at the library, tirelessly writing out little short stories, studying for classes, devoting as much time as possible with Ella, and still squeezing in time with Trent. I read my stories to Trent and Alice on occasion. A few of the stories are inspired from the adventures I had with Landon when we were younger, and a few are funny things Trent or I have done.
To further inspire my stories, I’ve been doing research on dragonflies. I’ve learned that they are a symbol of embracing change and self-realization. They have also been used to represent strength, joy and bravery, since it’s a creature of both water and air. Funny how two years ago, the dragonfly meant little to me and now it holds significant meaning.
One afternoon, I came home from my shift at the library utterly exhausted. I didn’t get any time to study, because, despite this being a small town, the library was busy. People needed help finding books and sending out faxes. I also did story time in the Kid’s Corner and had to set up the typical crowd that comes in to use our computers. I’m exhausted and now behind on my studies.
I smile at my beautiful, baby girl, as she holds her little arms up to me. I gently lift her into my arms and immediately feel panicked. She’s so warm, too warm.
“Melissa?”
Melissa comes into the living room. “Hey, Sweetheart!”
“Has Ella been this warm all day? Doesn’t she feel warm? Feel her. I think she may have a fever. Should we call the pediatrician? Maybe we should just go to Urgent Care.”
“I noticed she was a little warm. But, Sweetheart, don’t worry. Let’s keep an eye on her. She’s not burning up—”
“Yet. What if she gets worse?” I hold Ella tightly against me as her body seems to become hotter and hotter. What if she gets worse, and we can’t see anyone?
“Then we calmly take her to the doctor. Right now, she’s a little warm. I wouldn’t take her until she actually has a fever, that way, she won’t catch anything from taking her in when she’s not actually sick.”
“Catch something?”
Melissa chuckles. “A cold. The flu. A virus. Rachel, at some point, your baby will get sick. But, she’ll also be okay.” Tell that to all the mothers in the news articles I read on the internet. As if she can read my mind, Melissa frowns. “Stay off the internet.”
Melissa leaves and tells me to call her if I need anything. Trent should be home in an hour. I check Ella’s temperature, and it’s only a little elevated. As I’m preparing a bottle for her, she begins to scream. I give her a pacifier and bounce her in my left arm as I continue to try and finish her bottle. She squirms in my arm, and as I try to readjust her, I knock the bottle over. The cap wasn’t completely sealed, so all of the formula spills everywhere. Ella squirms again and drops her pacifier on the floor. She wails in my arms. I rush to the sterilizer and grab a new one. I place her in her glider and set the settings to vibrate and swing tempo low. Grabbing a new bottle, I begin again. While the bottle warms, I grab the mop.
My phone rings, and I see Alice’s name. I swipe my the screen and place her on speaker.
“Hey Alice.”
“Rachel? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Biggest lie ever.
> “Did you finish the test? I’m so nervous. I don’t think I got that last question right.”
My heart sinks. Test? What test? Classes just started! “We had a test today?”
“You forgot? I’m so sorry. I should’ve texted you to remind you.”
“No, no. Do I still have time to take it? When did he say the time would close for it?”
Alice’s voice immediately perks up. “Yes! It closes at eight.”
I release a breath of relief. I can do this. I end the call with Alice and quickly finish cleaning my mess. Then I grab the bottle and take Ella out of the swing. Trent should be here any minute. He can hold Ella, while I take my test, and all will be okay.
Another thirty-minutes pass and still no sign of Trent. I get a message from him that he’s running late because a guy swerved to miss hitting a deer and went into a ditch. Trent helped him out of his vehicle and stayed with him until help arrived. I’m grateful everyone is okay.
Ella refuses to nap, and she’s still fussy. Her body temperature is steadily creeping up. I turn on my laptop to try and prepare for my test. I only have an hour and a half left. Plus, I need to allow time to actually finish the test. I feel my clothes becoming wet. I look down, and her diaper has sprung a leak. When I pull her away, I realize it wasn’t just pee. The smell is horrendous. I hurry to the bathroom to try and clean us both up. Ella begins to cry, so hard, her little face is turning red. Finally, I begin to cry as well. I’m scared and exhausted. I try to sing through my tears to calm her down, but she sees through it. It’s clear as day that her mommy is a mess.
I get us both cleaned up, through lots of tears, and hold her tightly to me. I gently shush her and find comfort in the feel of her soft hair against my cheek. I walk over to the rocking chair and slowly rock Ella to sleep. Sighing, I feel a soothing calm settle over me as her breathing becomes a steady rhythm. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I ease it out as I continue to rock Ella.