In My Blood
Authors Note: This chapter is just several things that happened prior to Oakley being discharged from the NICU. Around 4-6 weeks. Only Addison coming home, and Oakley coming home really matter, everything else is just the in between.
Chapter 14:
PART 1 – In Which Addison Returns Home
Addison Montgomery's Point of View
I'm not sure what made me agree to it, but after the disastrous NICU visit I allowed Mark to bring me home. He walks ahead of me, carrying my bags up the stairs to the brownstone and sits them down just inside. I stand outside looking up at the brownstone. I look up at the window I had spent so much time in. What am I doing back here?
"Addison?" He asks, and without responding I make my way up the stairs and follow him like a little lost puppy into the entry way. I'm not sure what to do with the brownstone. What was I thinking when I bought a brownstone? Not once, but twice. Derek and I paid off our brownstone that he and Meredith live in in cash. We didn't finance. Mark was single when he bought the brownstone we share. When we got married we worked together to pay it off. It's now ours. I gave Derek my half of the original brownstone in the divorce. I didn't want it. When he married Meredith he put her name on the deed as co owner. I walk in and everything is exactly the way it was before I went to the hospital. I can't figure it out. If everything is the same why is it so different?
"The maid was able to get the blood stains out of the floor." Mark explains. "I paid her double, I didn't know what to do to get them up." He smiles at me sheepishly. It's a shame when I know very little about cleaning, having always had a maid, and I still know more about cleaning than he does.
"That's great."
"Do you want to relax? Maybe watch some TV?" He offers.
"I don't know." I say, he leads me into the living room. I try to go to the window, but he stops me. I'm still on medication, so much medication. I've increased in mental clarity though, and the fog is lifting. My brain feels odd. I'm just not used to being able to formulate thoughts. I'm not used to the painful awareness it brings. I resist, I want to sit in the window and look at the busy road outside. How many hours had I spent in that very place? It was once Heavenly's favorite, but now it's mine. He touches my shoulder gently. I turn back and our eyes lock.
"It's going to take time to adjust. I know you must be feeling awful right now, but I'm glad you're here." Mark says carefully. "I'll have someone come and sit with you, keep you company while I'm at work. I'll start looking for a Nanny for Oakley so all you have to do is be here. She'll be able to come home soon. We need to go shopping and get the nursery started." A nanny. Fantastic. This is going to be a wonderful situation to explain 'Hello? Yes, Nanny Agency? Could you please send someone over to raise my premature newborn that I don't want and don't love because I can't get over my dead child? Oh and I will probably be sleeping or drugged all day so it will fully be your responsibility to keep her alive. Thanks!' My instinct I didn't think I had chimes in. He is telling me these things to cheer me up. He's not trying to come off as a callous asshole. I'm not cheering up at all, in fact it's anything but that. What mother doesn't love her own child? The same thought keeps coming every time I think of the baby laying in the NICU and my absence of feelings towards her.
"I don't want to be here." I admit. "It's a lot."
"I know."
"What if I stay close?" I ask him. "I could get an apartment, I could visit on the weekends."
"This is your home Addison. This is your home as much as it is mine."
"It doesn't have to be." I say. "It just feels like you're replacing her."
"You're talking about shopping for a nursery and hiring a nanny, you're like a glowing parent. It's almost like you're already over her death and ready to move on with this new baby."
"I'm not replacing her Addison." He says, firmly. "I just don't have the luxury of shutting down every-time things get hard like you do. I have to take care of our premature daughter. I have to work all day and then spend the night with her in the NICU. Not you. You've vanished. You quit on me and our daughter." He exclaims, I sit silently as he rants, and then feels bad. "I'm sorry." He shakes his head. "Addison I didn't mean that, you're here now. That's what matters."
"It's fine." I say, but he is reading my body language, and that tells him it's nothing but.
"Addison..." He says in his 'you're being unreasonable' tone. Something snaps inside of me when he says my name like that.
"No! You don't get to Addison me! This year has been pure hell." The weight of anxiety, depression and PTSD alone is crushing me, and that's before all of the medical complications I've faced this year. He doesn't understand, and I don't have the words to tell him. As much as I hate it I wish he could have kept me overly drugged. They say I was 'nearly dead' but anything is preferable to this. I couldn't feel then.
"Mostly self-inflicted hell." He couldn't stop himself, thinking of the things I've done to hurt myself over the last year. Maybe if he had just allowed me to deal with my grief without putting me into such an overly medicated state, I would have been able to cope better. Maybe I would be less unsteady now. It's like comparing apples to oranges right now though. We can't change the past.
"Fine Mark, you win." I put my hands up in surrender. It's not like me to give in this easily, but I am just over it. I go to walk away, but he grabs me by the wrist.
"Don't touch me!" I demand, but he holds tightly. He doesn't hold tight enough to hurt, but to keep me there from running away.
"I am sorry Addison. Really I am."
"Let me go." I say shaking my head. "You have fault in this too. Sorry isn't good enough anymore." I pull away from him and lock myself in the downstairs bathroom. I turn on the shower and sit on the floor of the shower, clothes and all. I gasp, and then sigh in relief as the ice cold water splashes my skin and soaks every inch of me. I don't know how long it's been, but after a while the tears come and they won't stop. Mark knocks on the door but I ignore him, focusing my attention on not crying. He is talking, trying to get me to come out, but I am stuck. I realize that whatever I'm feeling is just the tip of the surface of what's truly inside. I'm mostly still numb, and that scares me. It scares me to know this is only a tiny fraction, and it feels so bad. I can't move. This goes on for some time and I'm shivering from the cold, but I don't move. That would require too much effort. I hear him dialing a number on his cell phone and a very one sided conversation.
'Can you come over?'
'She's not adjusting well. I think she's in shock.'
'Uh huh the door's open, see you in a minute.
"What did you do?" I hear Meredith's voice scolding Mark. I wonder how long it's been, I wonder if I've passed out. I didn't hear the front door opening and closing.
"I didn't do anything. She just freaked out and locked herself in the bathroom."
"Obviously it was something." I can't see her, but I know she just rolled her eyes at him. She knocks on the door. "Addison are you in there?" She asks.
"Of course, she's in there. Where else would she be?" Mark demands. "Do you think I've been sitting outside the toilet for two hours for my health?"
"Mark you're making this worse go away." Meredith says. Her tone is so authoritative that I hear him get up and leave, mumbling something that sounded like 'You have a better relationship with my wife than I do. The two of you should have just gotten together.'
"You, okay?" She asks. I hear her sit and lean her back against the door.
"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm okay I'm good." I say, but I can't stop the crying. I know she can hear it over the sound of the running water.
"That's convincing." She says sarcastically. "I thought we were past sarcasm and lies."
"I'm not lying."
"Don't make me take this door knob off." She warns. "I'll do it, but you know how bad I am at home renovations. It's highly likely the whole damn door would fall down." I remember the time that Willow and Heavenly accidently got locked downstairs in the playroom. We have a walkout basement. It connects to the main house, but the playroom, which was essentially a soft play sensory play heaven is in the other half of the basement which does not have access to the walkout. We had to call the fire department. They tried to ram it, but when that didn't work, they had to take it down with an ax. We still haven't replaced that door. The memory makes me cry harder. I try to hide it, but the sobs waste that effort. I force myself to open the door, and she walks into the bathroom, sitting down on the wet floor, outside the shower.
"You're not okay." She points out, as if I couldn't have figured this out for myself.
"No." I admit in a whisper.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks lightly.
"Not really. I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"Being at the beginning." She suggests, and I smile a little.
"I guess I'm just overwhelmed." I say. I'm not really sure why I am admitting this to her. Yes she was, is, my very best friend on this entire planet, but what good would it do? Really?
"Transitions can be really scary, and we haven't done our best job helping you transition."
"Yeah." I say. "I feel so guilty. I'm broken. I don't want to not want her."
"You went from being a mom to losing your daughter to finding out you're pregnant to lapsing into a crippling depression and anxiety. You woke up from the overly medicated haze months later to find yourself still struggling with both of these things while everyone else has had time to absorb the shock and heartache of Heavenly's death. Everyone else has had the chance to being healing and you haven't even been given the chance to properly grieve. Then you've had to deal with one complication after the other concerning your pregnancy." She says the word complication with only partial implication that they were made worse by me self-harming.
"I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't want this baby Meredith. Mark could take her. They could leave. I could get an apartment, and visit, but he doesn't want that. He wants me here with her every day."
"With all the trauma you've endured I don't really think anyone expected you to want her. I am so proud of you though." She says, and I look confused. "You've overcome so many hurdles to get her where she is today. She's safe, and she's loved Addison. That's all anyone ever wanted."
PART 2 – In Which Addison and Meredith Shop for Overly Priced Baby Supplies & Gadgets
"Do we even need all of this junk?"I ask Meredith annoyed, looking at the list she's made. With Heavenly I loved every moment of shopping for baby items. I bought the perfect crib and every single furniture piece matched. Her room was something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine spread, with everything perfectly in place and coordinating. With Oakley it's a chore. Meredith had showed up to the brownstone chipper with two hot coffees in her hands. She relieved the nurse Mark hired to 'keep me company' barley giving me enough time to brush hair and get dressed before she was dragging me out the door. We get into her car, and it's a good thing honestly, judging by the size of her list. A taxi would have been faster, but how would we have crammed all of these items into a taxi's small trunk?
"Well what are you going to do with her when she gets home?" She asks me. "You just had a baby, and you already got rid of all of Heavenly's baby things." She points out. "And since you have nothing but an empty room with puke worthy beige walls..." She points out. She wanted to turn Heavenly's bedroom into a nursery, but I refused. We're stuck with putting the baby in the next room over, which is coincidentally right next to our bedroom. The rooms on that half of the second floor are in a row. Our bedroom, empty bedroom, Heavenly's bedroom. I don't know why we didn't put Heavenly in the room right next to our bedroom. It would have made more sense.
"I'm not doing anything with her." I remind Meredith. "She's Mark's baby. He is the one who should be doing the shopping and picking out all the useless things, we're going to use twice, throw in the closet and forget about." I think of all the things I did and didn't use with Heavenly. All of those items on the 'must buy' lists that were really just an expensive waste of money. I say this simply, but I know my voice is cold, unappreciative. The truth is, I don't know what I'm going to do with her. Will Mark expect me to be the perfect mother to her, like I was to Heavenly? I hate the idea of shopping. I could have ordered all of this online and had it delivered. I look up and realize where we are and groan inwardly. Heavenly's entire bedroom was Pottery Barn Kids. Everything is still there, in her bedroom just beside the room that will be Oakley's room. On my therapist's advice Mark left her bedroom exactly as it was. He didn't take things out or give things away. When I began to 'wake up' after her death we just kept the door shut. We pretended as if not looking at that room made her not being there less painful. Mark also suggested that we turn Heavenly's bedroom into Oakley's room. Her twin bed converts into a crib. Her dresser was a changing table combo, we've just taken the pad off the top. Her rocking chair is a dream for rocking babies to sleep. I just couldn't though. I'm not ready.
"Addison you promised on the way here that you'd try." She says, and then thinks for a moment. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine." I say, quickly shaking the thoughts from my head. "Let s just get this over with." I say, giving up a little. How do I keep getting dragged into situations I don't want to be in? We have enough money. Mark could have taken off of work to do this. When did I lose the ability to say no? We get out of the car and walk into the store. I take my jacket off and put it into a basket. It's at least fifteen degrees warmer in here than it is outside.
We walk through the aisles. Meredith drags me to the wallpaper isle and shows me a cute little woodland animal themed with a gentle pink background. I shrug and she throws enough in the cart to completely cover all of the bedroom walls.
"You're putting that up right?"
"It's not that hard." She says, cheerfully. "I redid Willows bedroom a couple months ago."
"I hope you have a tall ladder."
We walk through the aisles and find all of the matching baby items that go with the wallpaper theme. Crib bedding, extra sheets and mattress protectors (to make for easy sheet changing for middle of the night blow outs.) bottles, a breast pump, and breastfeeding accessories. Wall art. More blankets than any one child could ever need in a lifetime. Meredith insisted on buying the same theme in multiples. Two complete crib sets, two toddler bed sets and two twin sets. She grabbed the curtains, the mobile and the rug before telling me that Mark has given her his unlimited credit card and told her to do whatever she wants as long as the baby gets a room, and I don't die. She gets several cases of organic diapers and wipes, organic baby formula, and then we pick out the furniture.
"What are you so afraid of Addison?" She asks me, we're looking at cribs now. I just shrug and pick a random crib. The Larkin 4 in 1 convertible crib. We grab the tag for that, as well as the extra wide dresser and changing table topper and the bookshelf. All in the chocolate variety. We find a rocking chair tag. She can tell i'm not having fun though. "Come on Addie, you love shopping, let's make this fun. Mark told me to buy you anything and everything you want today. We could go to Prada, or Gucci. I'll buy you a Gucci diaper bag..." She tempts me. I shake my head and she sighs, and we continue to check out. I don't realize until after we've paid and arranged for everything to be delivered to the brownstone later that day that I chose the same exact furniture as Heavenly had. Just a different color. We are quiet as I help her load all the non-furniture items.
"We still have to find baby some clothes. Where do you want to go?" She asks me.
"I don't know." I say. "Can't we just order online?"
"We could, but I know you won't. If you were planning on buying baby items, you'd have a roomful already. You were completely ready for Heavenly by thirty weeks."
"I didn't have much time to prepare, even if I wanted to, did I?" I ask her, and this shuts her up.
"Well, we only have a few hours until the delivery driver gets here. Let's just go into the mall, it's right here, we'll hit Target, Carters, and Gymboree I don't imagine your philosophy on functional clothing has changed in the last year." She says and I shake my head no it hasn't.
Two hours later we finally finish shopping and are back at the car, which is now completely packed full of purchases which now include outfits, pajamas, bibs, more blankets, towels, washcloths, enough baby soaps to fill both bathrooms, a baby bath, a swing, a play mat, and a bouncer, a car seat and stroller combo and a ton of random other little things. I need a sedative. I wonder who Meredith thinks is going to be putting all of this stuff away?
"I'm afraid I'm going to hurt her."
"What?" Meredith asks, confused.
"Earlier you asked me what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt her."
"What does that mean? Do you want to hurt her?"
"No."
"Then what makes you think that you'll hurt her?"
"I've already hurt her; how can I trust myself to not do that again when I don't love her?" I ask.
"Maybe love comes softly." Meredith soothes. "It's not there at first, but over time it grows, and then one day, even if it's not soon, one day there comes a day when you love that person so much you'd never even be able to fathom a life without them."
PART THREE – In Which Addison Prepares for Baby
"The wall paper's dry." Mark says. He and Meredith had spent the weekend completely covering the walls with the wallpaper. I did go and look once it was finished and Meredith had gone home. She made a beautiful choice. He sits down on the window seat next to me. "Oakley's doing better every day. She's completely bottle fed now, and they've removed the feeding tube." He says proudly.
"That's great." I say. I haven't been to see her. The nurse comes everyday and sits with me. I don't do anything while she's here. I just sit in the window watching the busy street below. I pump milk and put it in the freezer. All of the meds they have me on are breastfeeding approved. I could have gone to the NICU and spent time with Oakley, but I haven't bothered.
"I want you to come and visit her again." He says. "People are asking where you've been. I told them you've had a hard time recovering and need to rest. I take videos of her for you every day." He says. "They're on my phone if you'd like to see them."
"That's okay. I don't want to." I say. It's raining. I watch a mother and her little son walking down the street. His raincoat, umbrella, and wellies have a scattered train print on them. He stops in front of our brownstone, and looks up at the rain, a huge smile emerging on his little face. His mother tells him something, but he drops his umbrella, and stubbornly shakes his head 'no' and instead shrieks with laughter as he jumps up and down, splashing in a particularly big puddle.
"Addison I'm serious. I'm worried about what things will be like when she comes home. You're not bonding, you're not giving this an actual chance."
"We need to take things slower." I say, though I know nothing I can do will slow things down. Oakley will be home in just a few short weeks. "Would you rather I pretend?" I ask.
"Maybe if you pretend long enough it will become real and you won't have to pretend anymore." He suggests. "I haven't found a good Nanny. No one seems… Right."
"Oh no Mark." I say, seeing what he is getting at. "I'm not caring for her." I say. "The deal was I'd be here, but you'd hire a Nanny to care for her."
"Just for a little while." He suggests. "Until we can find her the Nanny she deserves. I need your help Addison. I don't want to leave her with just anyone." I don't trust myself with her. He thinks just because I've managed to put together the baby furniture that is scattered around our living room that I'm fine. The truth is I paid the nurse five hundred dollars extra and she helped me put it together so we could get it done in one afternoon. She probably would have done it for free as it was only the playmat, pack n play, swing, and bouncer but it seemed like such an inconvenience to me. It was kinder to pay her for her additional efforts.
"Take a leave of absence." I suggest. "Surely the hospital can do without you for a month or so until you find someone." He looks at me crossly.
"My operating schedule is completely booked solid for the next six months. I can't just take off." He takes diapers and wipes out of the boxes and stuffs them in the holder attached to the bassinet, and then puts diaper cream, powder, baby hairbrush, and nail clips, and several different vanilla scented pacifiers in the upper part of the organizer. He reaches into the laundry basket and takes out several swaddles and blankets, neatly folding them and putting them in the blanket storage.
"Okay." I finally agree. "I'll go see her again, lets finish her bedroom for now though." He looks so pleased by this change of pace. He puts the empty laundry basket back in the laundry room and then follows me upstairs where the crib box, dresser box, chair box, and all of the bags of clothing and other items had been hauled up and sat on the floor.
"It will be a lot of work. You're still on lifting restrictions. I want you to be careful." He says.
"I'm fine." We should have paid someone to put the furniture together, but we couldn't as the wallpaper hadn't been placed yet. We're two accomplished surgeons. Clearly, we should be able to assemble baby furniture, right? He looks at me doubtfully as he begins unboxing the crib.
I start sorting out the bags. I take the baby soap, baby medication, and other toiletries to the bathroom, and then look at the piles I've made. A mountain of clothing, a separate mountain of blankets. Meredith must have grabbed everything from preemie to twelve months. Knowing her she also accounted for the seasons. I should have paid more attention when we were shopping. I put the bedding that will be too big for the crib away in the back of the closet. At least that's cleared space.
"DONE. That wasn't so bad." Mark says, handing me the instruction manual. How long had it taken me to sort through everything? I look up and the crib is already completely put together. "Where do you want me to put this?" He asks.
"What about near the window, the wall opposite is empty?" Mark asks. "If we put it in this wall (he points) She'd still be able to look out the window without drafts or getting caught in the curtains being a concern." He suggests.
"That's fine." I agree. "Then the rocking chair can go angled right next to the crib here." I gesture to the bit of empty space. "Lets put the dresser changing table combo under the window. Looking out the window may distract her from crying during diaper changes." He smiles at me when I make these suggestions. I guess feeling like I'm finally getting involved. He does what I suggested while I continue making my way through the piles. I hang up everything three month plus in the closet in size order. He finishes hanging the curtains and ties them with a gentle little ribbon and then looks up for my approval. "It looks good. Her room is really coming together." I say. He applies the baby locks on either side of the window so that there is no way she'd be able to open the window and climb out and begins assembling the dresser.
"What if I can't do this?" I ask him. "What if I'm not strong enough?"
"You are so much stronger than you know."
"Maybe." I say, half halfheartedly. I hang up the zero to three month clothing as well. She's so tiny from what Mark tells me. She's not going to be able to fit into them for a while. I've finally made it through so that the rest can go into the baby's dresser. I quietly hang up all of the wall art and decorations, just watching as Mark finishes assembling it. I put the cover that matches the rest of the room on the changing pad, and sit it on top. He helps me fold the outfits and put them in the drawers, and then stock the storage area with diapers, wipes and other changing essentials and hangs the mobile all in silence.
"We work together well." He comments when we put the rug down, and step back to admire her bedroom. It's a bedroom fit for a princess. Thanks to Meredith it is every bit as wonderful as Heavenly's bedroom.
"We do." I agree. He pulls me to him hugging me closely from behind. I stay still for longer than I should, just letting him hold me.
"Everything's going to be okay Addison. Just give us time." He says, gently kissing me on the cheek.
"Okay." I agree. "I'll give it time."
PART 4- In Which Addison and Meredith Talk
"Hi Meredith." I say, opening the door. "Hi Willow." I look down to the little girl, holding her mothers hand. This is the first time
"Hi. Aunt Addison." She responds shyly.
"I'm so sorry Addison, the Nanny called in with the flu and Derek is removing an inoperable brain tumor from someones temporal lobe. I could have just stayed home, but I already told Evangeline I would come. I hope you don't mind I brought her." Evangeline is the nurse that Mark hired to 'keep me company' while he is at work. I think the whole thing is ridiculous. I haven't done anything stupid, unsafe or destructive since I've been home.
"Of course I don't mind. You know how much I love Willow. Come in, it's freezing outside." It's March but it's still so cold outside. It's been rainy and wet. Willow closes her umbrella and hangs up her rain coat. With her moms permission she takes off her wellies. Pretend until you don't have to pretend anymore. I remind myself. I kneel down to Willow's level and try to keep my voice light. "Do you want to come play or color?" When I was keeping Willow frequently I bought a bunch of toys, art supplies and games so when she came here she would have her own special things. Of course she can still play with Heavenly's old things, but having her own is nice as well. This is the first time i've seen her since I got home from the hosptial.
"Can I go to the playroom?" She asks.
"Sure, as long as it's alright with your Mommy."
"Please Mommy?" She begs, doing a little impatient dance in front of her mom as excitement surges through her. She loves playing in the playroom with all of the climbing equipment, ball pit, and sensory swings.
"Okay." Meredith agrees. "But you have to play carefully. No jumping off the roof of the playhouse like last time. I'll turn the baby monitor on so I can watch you."
"Yes ma'am." Willow says dully, but then she's darting around us and across the living room through the kitchen and down the stairs to the playroom. I smile a little. Isn't that just like a five year old for you? I catch myself when I think of her age. I missed her birthday. She is older than Heavenly now.
We go to the kitchen and I open the drawer pulling out an ipad and setting it up on the table and opening the application for our security system that allows for monitoring of all the rooms in the house. I bring up the audio and visual monitoring for the play room, and when i'm satisfied that it is working properly I make it the only room showing on the screen.
"We can watch her play." I say with a little smile, but I feel sad. I brush the feeling off as best as I can and busy myself in the fridge getting us drinks instead.
"She comes home next week." Meredith says, taking the sparkling water from me. Lord, not this again. Does everything have to center around talking about Oakley? Why can't we just have a normal conversation? "Willow and I went to visit her today. She's still doing wonderful without oxygen and feeding tube."
"That's great." I say, unable to even fake interest. Evangeline checks on me one last time. I assure her I'm find and she grabs her bag and leaves saying 'thank you Meredith.' and 'see you tomorrow Mrs. Montgomery." I don't know how many times I've asked her to call me Addison but she still calls me Mrs Montgomery and she calls Mark Mr. Sloan. Sometimes I wonder where he found her. These manners are not typically common in New York are they?
"Where's she off to today?" Meredith asks.
"I don't know, but she's annoying me. Mark is paying her eight thousand five hundred dollars a week to watch my every single move. I cannot even pee with her right outside the door. Do you know how many pairs of shoes and handbags I could have bought for that?" I ask.
"Considering your obsession with name brand, designer things? Not very many." Meredith says sarcastically. My favorite handbag came from Prada. Her favorite handbag came from Target. She doesn't understand the obsession. She smiles though. "He's worried about you Addison."
"He barley even talks to me. He's very similar to you. The only worthy conversation is Oakley." My head is spinning with all of the conversation surrounding her. 'Won't it be nice to finally have her home' and 'Are you sure you don't want to use cloth diapers? We used cloth diapers with Heavenly. They are more environmentally friendly.' and 'are you sure the carseat base is installed properly.' "I seriously thought putting her bedroom together would make him shut up, but he never stops." I say.
"I think he's just excited. Did he find a Nanny?" She watches as Willow climbs the climbing rope, pushes off the wall hard, and lets go, flying through the air shrieking with giggles as she lands in the ball pit.
"No, everyone is too young or too inexperienced. I told him I would watch her, or at least that i'd try, but now I feel manipulated because that's the decision he wanted me to come to this entire time."
"Oh." Meredith says. "Do you think you're ready?" She looks concerned.
"No." I admit. "It's not like I could screw it up with Mrs. Perfect Pants hanging around all the time."
She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, and we are just still, watching Willow play on the screen. She is in the puppet theater now playing with two dolls. 'Don't Worry' she says to the doll with the strawberry blond hair that used to be Heavenly's. 'I'll do your part for you.' She begins to go through the little skit that she and Heavenly made up one puppet in each hand, only now doing both roles. They made this play when they were three. How could she remember all the words? I don't mean for it to happen but I start crying as I watch.
"She talks about Heavenly a lot." Meredith tells me.
"I know."
"It got worse when you were hospitalized." She doesn't say this in a way to make me feel bad, just conversational. "I think she misses you."
"I miss her too. I wish I could be more for her."
"You can be." Meredith says, and I look at her confused. "Just keep showing up. Show up for her, and for Oakley. Things will be different, but different doesn't always mean bad."
PART 5 – In Which Addison and Mark bring Oakley Home
"Today's the big day!" Mark says, shaking me awake gently. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you earlier, it's been a while since you've slept this well. We have about an hour before we need to be at the hospital."
"You haven't gone yet?" I ask groggily. I roll over and stretch. I move my hand over my face trying to block out the sunlight. He's opened the curtains, and the sun is unreasonably bright.
"Not yet, I wanted to wait for you."
"I don't have to go do I?" I ask wearily. We didn't talk about this last night. Maybe he just assumed I would want to go and I assumed he was just going to go pick her up. Neither of us confirming with the other.
"Most mothers want to see their child graduate the NICU."
"I don't care what we've agreed to. I'm not her mother Mark." I say. Biologically of course, but for all other purposes no. She's been in the NICU since she was born, and I've only been to visit her twice, right before I left the hospital, and then again last week. My phone is full of pictures and videos of her Meredith and Mark keep sending me everytime they see her, which is at least three times if not more daily. She stopped crying for me and has accepted them for her comfort. She doesn't really need me. The only thing I can contribute to her is breastmilk and he is wealthy enough he could get that from a milk bank.
"What have you told people?" I ask, he's told me this before, but I don't remember.
"Just that you've been too poorly to visit and need time while you're recovering."
"That's not a very good excuse." I say.
"It's a believable one. You looked like you didn't feel well when you visited last week." I know he is right, but it's still no excuse. I get up and go to the closet to find something to wear. How many mothers have I treated who were deathly ill and begging to see their newborns? How many begged to see their babies the moment they woke up from anesthesia? How many mothers have I personally wheeled down to the NICU because they couldn't walk due to this or that but are desperate to see their baby? My heart hurts as I think of one of my patients who died. Her husband insisted we allow him to bring the baby to meet her. 'She sacrificed everything for him. He deserves a chance to say goodbye. She deserves a chance to meet her baby she gave her life for.' He insisted.
"I bet they're judging me." I mumble, half heartedly looking through my closet.
"They think you're sick. I thought you'd prefer that to 'my wife has gone completely psychotic." He says. I can tell he's joking; things have gotten a little bit better between us, but not much. I frown at him. Going through my closet I am turned off by the sheer amount of stuff. Why don't I have clothes like normal people wear? I wonder briefly why I can't just wear a tee and leggings. I then have to remind myself that I can't dress like that because I don't own simple clothes like that. I was raised that it's better to be uncomfortable than to be caught dead wearing 'something as tacky as comfort clothing' out in public. My mother's voice echoes in my head, and I cringe.
"Just put on something and lets go." Mark says. "You're going to a hospital not a runway fashion show. Nobody cares what you look like." He reminds me, but I catch a look of myself in the mirror.
"I look horrible." I say. The weight I had gained in the hospital had melted away again now that I'm back home and not on the feeding tube. There are still dark circles under my eyes.
"Months of starving and self-harm will do that to a person." He says. "Now get dressed, come on Addison. We're going to be late." I sigh, I can't wear a dress because then not only will I be cold, but I'll have to wear high heels. I decide on a floral top and jeans. I put on a random pair of boots and pull my hair back. I look in the mirror again and decide this is probably as good as it's going to get. I don't have the energy to force myself to put on make- up.
"Fine." I say, trying to psych myself out and put my 'I'm fine' mask back on. "Lets go take our baby home." It takes a lot to say 'our' baby when even yesterday I was hellbent that I am having no part in this equation. I take several deep breaths, trying to push down the anxiety bubbling up within. I can do this. If I pretend everything is okay for long enough things will get better. Maybe eventually things will be okay, and I'll have a decent life again.
By the time we get to the hospital I feel like I am going to pass out from anxiety. I sit in the car while Mark takes the stroller out of the trunk and attaches the car seat. He puts the diaper bag on the handle and then takes my hand in his and helps me out of the car. He holds my hand, squeezing it tightly, reminding me silently to breathe as we walk through the hospital pushing the travel system. He pulls me aside just before we get to the NICU doors.
"Most of the hospital doesn't know what's really going on. The only people who know are those directly involved in your care, and the chief. Everyone has graciously signed a non-disclosure agreement to prevent the rumors that normally accompany this place." He explains. I raise my eyebrows at him, not thinking he is one to go through the trouble. Nobody told me during the months I was stuck here that there was a non-disclosure agreement. It makes sense though. I always had the same small circle of doctors, nurses and staff.
"You did that?" I ask him, thankfully.
"The chief and I agreed that it would be best to protect you, and I, and now I just…" He pauses, struggling with something. He takes my face gently in his hands, searching my soul with his eyes. "I need to know that you're okay before we go in there. I know this has been hard on you. I know the next few months are going to be a big adjustment."
"I'm fine." I say, tearing up. He give me a look. He hates it when I say that.
"You're not fine. No one is fine Addison."
"I am I swear." I say, trying to sound happy. "I'm just…. I don't know… we finally get to bring home our baby today." I wipe my eyes, smiling, and really trying to mean it. Oakley coming out of the NICU unscathed after everything I've put her through is some sort of miracle.
"Are you sure?" He asks me, and I nod. He gives me a look of distrust but puts his arm around me protectively. My hands begin to tremble on the handle of the stroller. He gives me a tight hug, calming me. He disconnects the car seat from the stroller, and I fold the stroller, putting it out of the way in the scrub room and then we clean our hands. We don't have to wear the gloves and gowns since she's graduating and we're both clean, infection free with no open wounds.
"I'm fine, just excited." I say, trying to keep my vice airy. I'm fine. This is fine. Everything's fine. I follow Mark over to Oakley's bassinette and look down at the beautiful little girl we've created. One of the nurses, Sophia, is changing her diaper. She puts her on a little onesie with cats scooped into an ice cream cone on it and little matching pants and headband.
"I'm glad you're feeling better Dr. Montgomery." One of the interns, Emily, a third year says cheerfully. "Your little girl has been an absolute pleasure to work with. We'll miss her smile and coos, she really lights up the NICU." She turns to Oakley then. "Aren't you the cutest little thing on this earth Oakley?" She coos, and Oakley smiles big at her. I swear Emily is going to melt. Sophia finishes gathering all of Oakley's things into a couple patient bags and puts her on a little pair of socks.
"Do you know when you're coming back to work yet?" Emily asks. "Joy is driving everyone insane." She informs me with a grimace.
"A year, maybe more." I say. I know I have to make this good, believable. I have to for lack of words put on a show. I lift Oakley up carefully, holding her so gently. It feels strange to have a baby in my arms again after all this time. I smile down at her while talking. "I want to spend every moment with this little one that I possibly can before I come back. I'm missed so mch time already." I am going to say more, but Mark, sensing what I'm doing comes up behind me, kissing me gently on the cheek.
"I think we have everything; do you want to put her in her car seat? If you push her I'll carry her bags, they're a little heavy." He says. I nod. He sits the car seat down and I gently place her in the seat, doing up the straps and clips. I take a couple extra minutes to make sure all of the straps are adjusted properly, and the chest clip is in just the right position. Contrary to what many moms who come through here believe, it belongs on the chest, not over the abdomen.
"Did you miss Mommy?" I ask her, and she looks up at me curiously. "Mommy missed you, yes I did! Your daddy and Auntie Meredith sent me lots of pictures and video of you so I could still see you when I was recovering. You've grown up so much already." I say in a sing song gentle voice.
"She's all signed out. Are you two ready to go?" He asks, looking over my shoulder at Oakley and smiling that goofy smile down at her. She was apparently very unphased by us, because she yawns and falls asleep.
"She really is perfect, isn't she?" I ask him.
"She is, exactly like her Mommy."
We say goodbye to everyone and thank them for taking such good care of her. We carry the carseat and bags to the scrub room, and once the stroller is unfolded attach her carseat. The click of the carseat causes her to start, but she doesn't wake up. I tuck her little kitty blanket that matches her outfit around her, so she doesn't get a chill. And we make our way back out to the car together, chatting almost cordially as we admire the beautiful little girl we've made. No one can tell what the future will bring, but for now I'm hoping I can fake it till I make it, and things really will change. In this moment, this very small fraction of time, I'm hoping for the best.
Authors Note:
Thank you for all the kind reviews on the last chapter of In My Blood! I am having a lot of fun writing this story. What do we feel about Addison? Think she's trying to change?