Much later that night, she tiptoes down the hallway, and peeks in on her son. He is fast asleep in his crib. Her mother in law is snoozing on their couch. Marty is asleep in tangled covers in their bed. She knows that sleep will not soon come. She heads into the bathroom with clean clothes, and turns on the shower. She closes the bathroom door, locking it behind her. She peels off her clothes, and climbs into the shower. The hot water hits her skin. Part of her wishes that she could wash off everything from her day, and start over. She reaches for a bar of soap. She feels autopilot flip off as she rubs the soap over her abdomen. She hesitates, and the soap falls to the floor of the shower. She doesn't reach forward, and attempt to pick it up. She exhales, and the water from the shower head hits her face. It mixes with the tears that stream down her face. She feels like she can't breathe. An overwhelming sense of anxiety overtakes her. She stays in the shower until the water turns ice cold. Eventually she turns off the water, and exits the shower. She wraps a towel around herself. Her wet hair drips, as it hands freely at her shoulders. She stands in front of the mirror just staring at herself. Her face is red, and tear stained. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her skin is paler that she is used to.
She dries off, and pulls on her pajamas. It is well after midnight, and she is exhausted. She exits the bathroom, and a familiar noise launches her back into reality. She heads down the hallway to her son's room. She picks up the crying baby, and kisses his forehead. She turns to head to the door, planning on going downstairs to make him a bottle. She finds her mother in law standing in the doorway.
"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to wake you."
She smiles, and reaches for the baby in her arms, "Kensi, I'll take him. Go to bed."
"That isn't necessary," Kensi insists.
"Yes, it is. I'll feed him, and get him back to bed. Get some rest."
"I can't sleep," she admits.
"Are you worried about leaving him?"
"It's not just that," she admits, feeling emotionally raw.
Roberta slips the baby out of her arms. Kensi follows her to the kitchen. She takes a bottle off the counter, and begins to fill it with formula.
"Kensi, I can do that. I know how."
Kensi relents, and allows someone to do something for her. She leans against the counter, staring at her son. Roberta presents the bottleful of formula to the infant. He quickly begins to drain the bottle. His tiny eyelids grow heaving with each suck. They stand in the kitchen, in silence as Roberta holds the little boy as he eats. She looks at Kensi, who seems to be somewhere else entirely.
"Kensi, what's on your mind?"
She shrugs.
"Are you worried about going back to work?" Roberta probes.
"I don't know if I am ready to leave him."
"He is in good hands," she reminds Kensi.
"That isn't my concern. I know he is safe with you. Our work is challenging. We put our lives at risk, and the hours are long. I am beginning to wonder if it is worth it."
"You love what you do."
"But I have never had a reason not to. I have never had someone at home waiting on me who is totally dependent on me. What if I don't come home? I…"
"You can't think like that," she argues.
"I don't know how to deal with all of this."
"I understand. It is new, and it is complicated."
"This isn't how I pictured it," she admits.
"It rarely is."
"I never in a million years would have considered this situation. I can barely wrap my head around it. How am I ever supposed to explain it to him? How am I supposed to explain all of this to a little boy?"
"Keep it simple, and age appropriate."
"But…"
"He is a lucky boy. How many kids don't even have one good male role model? He gets two."
"I guess."
"Something else is bothering you, isn't it?"
"What if I go to work tomorrow, and I just want to come home? What if I just can't do it?"
"You will be fine."
"But…"
"You can call to check on him whenever you want to."
"My entire life changed completely in a matter of seconds, and I just feel as if I am having a hard time keeping up with all of the changes. One moment it's just me, and then the next I am somebody's wife, and mom."
"You are doing fine."
"I thought that things would start to calm down, but every time I turn around it just seems like things are getting more complicated."
"What do you mean?"
"I am married, but my baby's biological father is not my husband. His biological father is someone that I work with closely every single day. I try to have rules, and boundaries, but I don't know if I am doing the right thing. Now…" she trails off.
"Now, what? Is there an issue with visitation?" Roberta presumes.
She shakes her head, "No. Sam has been very respectful, and we haven't had any problems with visitation."
"So what is bothering you?"
"Everything. I just feel like I'm living someone else's life," she admits.
Roberta smiles, and places the sleeping baby in her arms. She holds him against her chest, and he places his hand on her skin, as if he is feeling her heart beat. She exhales, and kisses him on top of the head.
"You don't have to do this on your own. We are all here for you. I am right here if you need to talk."
"I'm scared," she admits, on the verge of tears.
"That is completely normal."