It's empty; the box of newborn pampers is empty and the next size up is practically falling off of Emma's behind. Erin shuffles her baby to her non-dominant arm and utilizes one hand to shoot off a quick message to Jay, -huge favor. Need more newborn diapers. Thank you. The size of this current diaper offers practically no support for Emma's butt but unless she wants her kid to walk around bare bottom it'll have to do, at least until Jay gets here, which as she looks at the time, probably wouldn't be for another couple of hours. He's at work and despite what baby girl may think, the world unfortunately does not revolve around her. Erin bounced her up in her arm to get a better grip around her waist as the wails coming from her newborn got louder.
"It's okay," Erin soothes transitioning the baby from a bounce to a gentle sway, "it's okay."
Emma was having a major meltdown. And Erin was on the verge of one too. She didn't know exactly what to do. All of this was new for her. Every day taught a new lesson, every moment with her baby was a new experience. And this experience right now left her wanting to cry right along with her baby. All she wanted to do was pull out her hair and shout screw everyone who told her that it would all come naturally. That was a lie. All she could do to soothe the infant in her arms is to walk back and forth, and back and forth, but it wasn't working. Nothing was working. She didn't want to be rocked, or fed, or changed, or bathed, or put to sleep. She didn't want to do anything but cry, which Erin could understand because that's all she wants to do right now too.
"Oh my, there's my girl," Camille exclaimed, eagerly stretching her arms in Emma's direction. At her mother's arrival, an immediate sense of relief flooded her system. Help was here.
It had only been a few days since Emma's birth and it was the first day that Erin spent a full day alone with her baby and the first time that Erin questioned her abilities to be a mother. Maybe this was a huge mistake? What was she thinking? Could she possibly handle this single parenting thing? Emma had been crying almost nonstop for the past two hours straight. Her poor lungs were probably hurting at the squelching screams coming from her baby. Erin felt bad; she truly did. No mother wants to see their baby so upset, especially for so long. She had tried everything: feeding, changing, singing, bathing, reciting nursery rhymes, playing, reading storybooks aloud as she sways the baby in her arms and every other thing that came to mind. It didn't work though. Nothing seemed to fucking work and that was the fucking problem.
"I have never been happier to see you than I am right now!"
Jay had told her, had sent her a text this morning as he was heading into work that if she needed anything then she shouldn't hesitate to reach out. Screw him. She wasn't going to do that. She wasn't going to prove how unfit of a parent she is to him and his girlfriend. Erin refused to show weakness, to show him that she maybe didn't know what she was doing. She was being ridiculous if she thought about it hard enough but with the crying infant in her ear, all rational thought went out the window. If only Emma could tell her what was wrong…then Erin could help her. Erin will literally do anything to help her, to ease her cries, but she needed to know what was wrong first.
She had held her tighter against her chest, hating herself for not knowing what to do, hating herself because she felt at fault for being unable to stop her baby from desperately crying out for whatever she needed. She bashed herself. She bashed those so-called motherly instincts that refused to kick in. She bashed the women that made this all look so easy. There had to be something wrong with her if she couldn't even figure out what the hell her baby needs to stop crying. It had eventually taken Erin rocking her with the television on while patting her back and shhing her wails that finally calmed down her almost one-week-old baby. Unfortunately, though, it didn't last because an hour later, her cries were back and this time rocking her and watching TV didn't work. But, now that her mom is here after spending one night at home, Erin happily relinquishes her kid to see if her mother has a better chance, "She misses her grandma," Erin says as she transitions the baby to her mother's arms, "Spend all the time you want together. Enjoy." If she's being honest with herself, she does find some type of comfort when her mother struggles to settle her down. It's comforting to know that maybe it's not specifically her, maybe it's more than Erin as a mom.
"She's been like that on and off all day today," Erin vented, taking advantage of her arms being free to pick up scattered toys and onesies from around her living room, "I tried everything."
"…maybe a warm bath will do the trick?"
Erin pauses, holding a used burp cloth in her hand, "I tried that. Just so you don't feel the need to suggest things I've already tried, I'll tell you what I did," she dropped everything in her arms into the arm chair, "I checked her for a temperature, thankfully she doesn't have one. I've rocked her, I've sung to her, talked to her, fed her, changed her diaper, offered her a pacifier, rubbed her back, put her in the swing, played some music and put on the TV. Please mom, tell me what I'm missing, I need another tip and trick from that brilliant mind of yours."
"I may have the perfect idea in mind. Justin used to love this as a baby," Camille readjusts the baby in her arms as she takes a seat on the couch, "place her across your lap on her belly," Emma continues to cry as she's placed, "and rub her back, nice and slow. It's soothing." The baby continues to cry but that doesn't stop her mother. She simply continues until the cries turned to coos before silence inevitably followed. Her newborn fell asleep.
And before she woke back up, Camille gently strapped her into her swing and put the sway on the lowest setting. Erin was thankful that her mom was back. She briefly contemplated having her mom stay with her until Emma's first birthday but she knows her dad wouldn't be too happy about that. Camille had already agreed to spend the week with them but at the last minute, she had to spend the night at home with her husband, which Erin couldn't truly fault her for considering it was their anniversary. Camille raised her children. And now she has the luxury of experiencing all the perks of being a grandmother. Her mother left her granddaughter's side and resumed cleaning up around her apartment because in the span of a week, Hurricane Emma has made landfall.
"I'm going to put her in her room," Erin says after watching the baby remain asleep for ten minutes. That's a success in her book. But now Erin wanted to do some deep cleaning and what she had in mind may disturb and startle her baby awake. That's something she's not willing to risk.
Taking her time, probably longer than needed, she utilizes the crib for the first time, carefully laying her on her back and clearing the inside of anything with the potential to suffocate her. With her pacifier in her mouth, Emma remains asleep, smiling softly as if she didn't come close to sending her mom to a psych ward. Erin could hold a grudge but obviously never with Emma. She lifted the baby monitor and crept out of the nursery. The second the door shut, Erin rested her forehead against it and counted to ten, half expecting for the baby to wake up and when she didn't, she happily turned around to face her mother, "…finally a break!"
"Sweetheart, don't whisper and tiptoe around the house when the baby is sleeping," Camille advises, carrying over the dirty cloths and onesies to drop into the hamper, "you want her to get used to sleeping with normal sounds of an active household."
"Can we start that after I've had a full night of rest?"
"How about you take a nap? I'll take one of the prepped meals out the fridge to heat up, leave the baby monitor with me. If she wakes up, I got her. You go rest your eyes for a bit."
Erin is not stupid, far from it, so she simply gives her mom a kiss to the cheek and then disappears, first to the bathroom to take a hot shower and wash her hair and then to bed to hopefully get in a nap before she's woken by the baby needing to be fed. Anything other than that, her mom can handle. She manages to snag around an hour's worth of rest before her mom is lightly knocking at her bedroom door, carrying in a plate of warm food to encourage her daughter to eat.
"Emma woke up after about thirty minutes, I changed her and she went right back down. I had to reheat your plate but I figured it's been another half an hour and it's about time you eat something."
"Mom-" Erin groaned because she'd rather stay asleep than eat right now.
"Look, you're responsible for feeding your baby and I'm responsible for feeding mine, now sit up," Camille retorts and the second her daughter readjusts herself on the bed, she sets a tray table down on her daughter's lap and walks out of the room, leaving her daughter to eat the bowl of loaded potato soup. The prepped meals had been a life saver this week from her mom's delicious tater tot casserole, her tasty chili with a side of cornbread and her appetizing meatloaf, mashed potatoes, dinner rolls and roasted veggies to her signature homemade chicken pot pie, her spaghetti and meatballs with her homemade special sauce and her flavorful beef stew. Damn her mother is a great chef, and an even better mother and grandmother.
That reminder suddenly changed the atmosphere in the room. It took the tension out of her shoulders as she reminded herself to be grateful. Not everybody has a mother that'll stock their freezer up with prepped meals, not everyone had a mother that would wake them up to make sure they ate and not everyone had a mother who would walk around holding a baby monitor to tend to her granddaughter's needs as they flared up. Erin scraped up the last bit of soup out of her bowl before setting the tray table off to the side of her bed, the side of her queen-sized bed that typically housed her remote, her phone and any snacks that landed in her room during her single lady movie nights, which typically were every night since she is in fact a single lady as her libido likes to remind her. Erin kicked the covers off her legs and used her fingers to brush the damp hair out of her face before lifting the tray and carrying it out of the room.
"Oh, sweetie you didn't have to bring that out here," her mother rushes down the hall to meet her halfway to take the tray, "I was going to come back and get it. You go back and lay down."
"Mom it's fine," she yawns, "honestly, and besides, I should probably get used to not having you around. You're going back home soon and dad's been bugging me, he misses you."
"I told you I'll stay here for a week. My week isn't up yet. Your father can wait; he'll be fine."
Erin shrugs, "I'm just saying…the man's never been known for his patience."
"It's never too late to learn."
Camille disappears into the kitchen to clean up the dishes Erin had used for her meal, leaving her daughter standing in the living room, looking around trying to figure out what to do. Her mother has pretty much been on top of everything from caring for her daughter to her granddaughter and even for Erin's home. She makes it all look so easy. It's definitely not something Erin will be able to keep up with the second her mom packs her bags and heads back home. She goes in search of her phone while her mother remains occupied in the kitchen. Finding her cell folded into the blanket on the couch, she checks her notifications, finding Kim's latest message and remembering that while she read her text, she had mentally responded to it and not actually typed out the response, -blame new mommy brain because I thought I replied to you. Friday is good.
Friday, the day apparently that Milo will be coming home. From the day her mother leaves to the day her pup returns, she'll have a few days of just she and the baby to get acquainted and adjusted before her dog comes home. She knows Milo misses her; he misses home too. He has the tendency to whine when Kim drops Erin's name so her friend has been mindful enough to avoid doing that. And when Erin facetimes her friend only to speak to her dog, she realized that while Milo may miss her, she misses him more. Oh, she desperately hopes he adjusts to their new roommate.
After catching up on all of her text messages, she takes a seat in the armchair and begins scrolling through social media, finally catching up on each app, responding to messages, sharing memes and commenting under the photos and posts of family and friends. With her mother doing so much, it doesn't leave her pretty much anything to do. So, she tries to do nothing. And that gets old really fast. So, she spends the next half an hour swiping through the pictures of Emma she has saved to her phone while some prescription drug commercial advertising the side effects of something that's supposed to treat fibromyalgia plays in the background. She only puts her phone down when the series of commercials end and the local news comes back on. A part of her wonders if Intelligence are investigating any of the stories talked about on this hour's news cycle.
When she gets bored again, Erin checks the time then reaches for the baby monitor. A part of her thinks the battery died and that's why she hasn't heard any noise coming from it, but when she sees her kid, probably in the deepest stage of rem sleep, she realizes that the monitor and the batteries are working just fine. Still, even knowing this, it doesn't stop Erin from getting up to take a look in Emma's room, only to find her in the exact same placement as she was through the baby monitor screen. Emma remains asleep. Her baby has never slept this long. And if not for her mother, she would have worried the second her baby entered hour two of her nap. Emma's exhausted from all the crying, Erin has to remind herself, so to sleep this long isn't abnormal, she should actually be thankful for it, however if she sleeps for another hour then Erin will be forced to wake her up for her next feeding. Her baby girl's already a petite little mama, she doesn't need her kid dropping any more weight than the doctor already warned her will fall off this week.
"Parents aren't born sweetheart; they're made on the job. Be patient with yourself."
Her mom tosses the dishrag over her shoulder and cups her elbows. Despite a lack of word or acknowledgement from Erin, she can sense the insecurity. No need to compare a new mom to a woman that's been doing it for three decades. It's a learning process where there's a new lesson every day. And Camille had Hank for help. Erin has nobody. And even though she knows she very much so has Jay in every capacity, it's different. He's not here 24/7. He's not waking up in the middle of the night for feedings and diaper changes. He's not a walking zombie. No matter how much they may try to make things as equal as possible, it's not. Erin is here and Jay comes over for a few hours after work every day. It's not the same. And Erin's scared about having the majority of responsibility; it's a lot of pressure and there's a lot riding on her doing this right.
"Thanks for saying that," she blows out, "to be honest, I'm probably going to need to hear it a few more times. I know that but it's going to take some time before I can truly believe that."
"Cut yourself some slack. No matter what the internet tries to have you believe, there is no such thing as a perfect parent and no parent knows everything, even me."
Erin scoffs jokingly at that, "You could have definitely fooled me."
"I'm going above and beyond this week because next week I'm going to be home. I wanted to make the adjustment as easy for you as possible. Don't be so hard on yourself. And if you need help, don't hesitate to ask for it. I live 15 minutes away, not 15 hours. I'm going home, not to the moon."
Just as Camille opens her arms to draw her daughter into a hug, she's stopped by a knock, one that causes for Erin to wince, fearing that it'll wake the baby, however when her eyes dart to the baby monitor and she notices the baby doesn't budge or squirm, she sighs in relief and heads on over to the door, calling for a raincheck on the hug she definitely owes her mom. Not even bothering to check the peephole, she unlocks the door and swings it open, smiling at her dad's unexpected appearance. He stands before her, his reliable leather jacket protects his arms from the slight chill in the summer air and after giving her a hug, he makes his way inside, obviously in search of his granddaughter, "She's fast asleep," she pouts at the obvious look of disappointment on her dad's face, "she should be waking up soon though. I'm sure she'd love to see her grandpa."
"How are you doing? How are you holding up?"
"I'm exhausted," she admits honestly; no cutting corners with him, "My hair is a mess, I'm grumpy, I smell like baby puke on most days, but the minute I look into her eyes, it makes it all worth it though."
"…the joys of parenthood," he squeezes her shoulder before drawing her back into his arms, "I was hoping to catch her awake. I decided to drop by after work just to pop my head in and see how you all are holding up. I'll have to catch her during a better time. I can't stay long. I have something that's supposed to be delivered in an hour and I have to sign off on it otherwise they'll take it back to the delivery warehouse and I am not going another day without my 75-inch flatscreen."
Erin's head swivels around in her mother's direction, eyes wide in absolute shock, "How did he convince you to let him get that big of a size television?"
"I don't think you want to know sweetheart." Camille blushes.
"Okay, gross, you're right I don't want to know." Erin backs away from the door, plugging her ears to block out the sounds of her parents flirting in whispering breaths. Her dad does eventually leave minutes later and she already knows he's counting down the day he gets his wife back. She's grateful for her mom's help and she'd love if she were able to stay longer but realistically Erin knows that she can't hide behind her mother's help forever. At some point she'll be doing this by herself, of course with Jay's help, at least when he's here, but the hours he's not are going to be hard. And the thought of that is overwhelming, to have the responsibility of taking care of someone else besides her, besides Milo, has her on high alert. She wants to do this right.
She sees her mother in front of her talking to her, asking her something, something that Erin cannot hear. Between the television being on and her neighbors across the hall arguing so loudly, she fears it'll jolt her baby awake, there's little room for her mother's voice to carry, so Erin simply whispers, "huh," hoping that if her mother repeated herself, she'll have a better chance at grasping it, "what did you say," she asks. Erin still doesn't hear her after her mom repeated herself three times yet that doesn't stop her from pretending like she did. She simply smiles and nods, hoping that her response covers up the fact that Erin being caught up in her head has her partially deaf.
"I'll get it," her mother grunts exasperatedly. Now the dots connect, her mother must have asked her to get the door and despite Erin smiling and nodding, she doesn't move which tells her mother everything she needs to know. She wasn't heard at all. Camille gets to the door, not bothering to check the peephole because she assumes it's Hank, it's only been a little over ten minutes since he left so it wouldn't be much of a surprise if he came back, "Oh," she says surprised, "Jay," his name alerts Erin, brightens her up a bit and has her turning around to face the door, "you're here."
Camille leaves the door open and walks back down the hall to stand near her daughter, eyeing the expression on her child's face. Erin steps forward to meet him halfway, but comes to an abrupt stop when he disappears momentarily only to reappear with something unexpected in his arms.
"I come bearing gifts," Jay announces; his upper body is now blocked by the large stuffed animal he's holding up in his arms, "it's a belated birthday gift from Abby to Emma." He drops it to the ground in front of him to reveal the look on Erin and Camille's faces, "I probably had the exact same look you guys have right now when I first saw it." He disappears briefly again into the hallway before he reappears seconds later with two large bulk size boxes of newborn pampers.
"I guess it's the thought that counts," Camille walks over, lifting up the octopus as best as she could considering its size and carrying it further into the living room, "that was sweet of her," she grunted, not expecting it to have added weight to it, "I'll put it in the corner because it's definitely not going to fit in the nursery and there is nowhere else to put it."
"Thanks mom," Erin tossed a smile over her shoulder before the smile slowly dropped when she turned her gaze back to Jay, "thanks for getting the diapers, but um, can I speak to you for a second?" She points her thumb over her shoulder, aiming it towards the nursery, "in private, in Emma's room. She's napping but she should be waking up soon anyway."
He agrees despite knowing where this conversation is going to go. And it's not anywhere good.
Erin opens the door, waits for Jay to enter and then quietly shuts it behind her. She's mindful to cut off the baby monitor to ensure her mother didn't unintentionally hear their conversation. Erin takes a moment to find the words to express just what she's thinking and in doing so, she waits and observes as he approaches the crib, gripping the railing as he peers down, admiring his little girl as she sleeps while he braces for the thunderstorm he knows is coming. It's the calm before the storm and he hopes that she isn't as upset as he expects her to be. It's a harmless stuffed animal, it's big in size yeah but other than that, it can't be too much of a nuisance.
It does bother her though. Maybe it's because so much emotion is pent up in her body? It's nothing she can really do to get it out right now. Erin isn't even allowed to exercise yet, which typically wouldn't bother her because it isn't her favorite thing to do, but she wouldn't mind dropping some of the baby weight and she's always had a problem with being told she can't do something. She can do small things like going out for a short stroll around the neighborhood, nothing too strenuous, not at least for the first six weeks after birth. And the days are going by painfully slow but that's only because they're blending all into one day considering she's sleep deprived. And she doesn't necessarily want the days to speed on by considering it'll mean her daughter will be growing up, getting older and hitting new milestones and she's not quite ready for that just yet.
Erin isn't allowed to have sex either, at least not for the next four to six weeks, but that's of no bother to her because she's nowhere near ready for that anyway. She's not in a relationship and one-night stands are a thing of the past now, after her last one, she's learned quite a few lessons about sleeping with strangers, unprotected. She's in no rush to start having sex again, her little bundle of joy a physical reminder for her to take her birth control was now swaddled in a blanket, sleeping peacefully, the clear pacifier in her mouth keeping her calm.
She doesn't know if she doesn't like the stuffed animal because of its size and appearance or if its because of who gave it to her.
Jay reaches into the crib, caressing the dimple in his baby's cheek with the side of his pinky. He falls into a peace, a sense of security as his daughter's warm expression wraps around him and reminds him that no matter how annoyed Erin may be with the gift, it's not for her, it's for Emma.
"I hope you don't think that thing is staying here."
"Erin-" he sighs, slowly turning around.
"Jay," she quips back.
"It's a gift. She figured since she didn't get anything for Emma at the baby shower then she'd get something for her now. Look at it as a peace offering; she's trying."
"…but why does it have to be so big? And odd looking? And why an octopus?"
"I don't know," he shrugs, immediately turning to face the baby when he hears her stir, "I guess because it's different and she figured Emma probably has plenty of teddy bears."
"I can think of so many animals that come to mind before a stuffed octopus."
"What do you want me to do about it, Erin?" Now he sounds tired. He pinches the bridge of his nose, "I can't take it back to the store. I doubt she still has the receipt."
"Can you take it back to your place?"
"It's for Emma, are you going to allow her to come over?"
"Am I going to allow her to come over just to play with a stuffed octopus when she's not even old enough to know what that thing is?" The frown lines appear on her forehead; she doesn't follow his line of thinking right now, "of course not."
"…then there's no reason for it to come back to my place."
Jay is obviously done with the conversation and Erin only becomes done with it when the baby starts to fret. Her closed fists squirm and her body fidgets uncomfortably in her crib. He immediately scoops her up when her face scrunches together, seconds before a full-on outburst came, stopping it in its tracks when she enters the comfort of her dad's embrace, and suddenly in the span of the entire ordeal, the whiff of a full pamper reaches both of their noses. Erin frowns at the sight of her daughter's backside, the downside of using a diaper that is too big is it isn't secure around her bottom and any fluids or excrements that come out of her, come out of it. It went through her onesie and Erin is willing to bet her life's savings that some of it is even smeared against her back. Oh, the joys of having a partner in all of this. She can pass the buck to him.
"She's going to need more than a diaper change," Erin smirked, arms crossed over her chest in glee with knowing that he'll be the one to take on the task, "she'll need a sponge bath. I think now is the perfect time for daddy to do it solo, think of it as a bonding experience. Just be careful to not get the stump wet. Everything you need is in the cabinet below the sink in the bathroom. I'll put a diaper and a onesie on the changing table for you once you're done."
Erin turns to step out of the room, only stopping when Jay expresses a bit of concern, "Wait, you're not going to help me?"
"You're a big boy. You got this."
And to prove her right, he played that positive affirmation on rotation in his mind. He was not failing. He was not showing her that she's potentially the better parent, even if she got more practice because she's with Emma all the time. He stops that thought seconds after it finishes going through his head because this isn't a competition. They're a team, not rivals. Jay carries the baby away from his chest, his arms stretched out as far as they'll go as he makes his way to the bathroom. He ignores the snickers of both Erin and Camille in the background as he holds back his need to gag. How could something so small do something so repulsive? Fortunately for him, Erin did spare him a couple of steps by having her small tub prepared and situated in the bathtub, however everything else was left to him. He's under pressure. It's his first time giving her a bath without any help. However, a little of the pressure is relieved when Erin comes into the bathroom, drops the toilet lid to take a seat on it and watch every step and move he makes from over his shoulder. At least he knows, if he messes up, Erin will surely be vocal about it and steer him back on course.
The lukewarm water fills less than an inch of the infant bathtub. He removes the pamper, hands it off to Erin and begins the journey of washing his baby clean. He hums a lullaby because Jay isn't known for carrying a tune. He follows the song up with a made-up fairytale, combining elements of Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast and Rapunzel. He definitely gets an A+ for creativity because the flow and confidence in which he combines aspects of the story has her questioning the actual details of each fairytale. He gives her a good cleaning, paying special attention to her top and bottom before wringing the sponge and draining the infant tub.
"Good job dad," Erin jokes, squeezing his shoulder before draping the towel over his opposite shoulder, "you did a really good job considering the mess Emma left for you."
"Thanks," he gives her a genuine smile because the compliment went a long way. He's not confident about his role as a dad. He feels like there's a lot he's missing out on and a lot of things he doesn't know how to do. He doesn't know it's the same for Erin since neither are comfortable getting vulnerable enough with each other about this. She won't admit it to him and he damn sure won't admit it to her. Erin makes it look easy to him. Jay makes it look easier to her.
Jay finally walked out of the nursery, holding Emma up in his arms with a smile beaming across his face like he'd won an award and was carrying his trophy. He rotates her in his hold before laying her against his chest and patting her back in a heartbeat like rhythm, "That's exhausting."
"Imagine having to do that after waking up every other hour," Erin meant it as a joke but it fell flat considering he's already experiencing some parental guilt. This early into Emma's life, Jay wants to be here more but how do you even bring that up? How do you suggest it without making Erin feel like he's questioning her ability to parent alone? Since Emma arrived, he's questioned everything, every action and every thought he scrutinizes.
"I think someone's hungry," he presses a kiss to Emma's head before carefully transferring her to her mother's arms. He takes a seat next to her, ready to take the baby back once she's done.
Emma feeds until her belly is nice and full and then she's passed over to her dad to be burped. Erin briefly disappears from the living room to grab a burp cloth for him to ensure the baby didn't spit up all over him. Camille remains staring at the octopus she situated in the corner of the living room, only pulling her eyes away from the stuffed animal when she hears her daughter reenter the living room, tossing the burp cloth towards Jay, nodding in admiration when he raises his hand to catch it mid-air. She turns back to the octopus, arms crossed over her chest as she stares at the uneven eyes, "When Emma's vision clears up, this thing will probably scare the crap out of her."
"I was thinking the same thing," Erin chuckled, "if the thing wasn't too big for Em's room, I'd still probably keep it in the living room. It would give my poor girl nightmares."
"Why keep it then?" Camille turns around fully, no longer interested in scoping it out.
"Jay's girlfriend bought it for Emma. He convinced me it was a peace offering. It would be rude to just throw it out, especially because a stuffed animal that size probably cost way more than ten bucks," Erin acknowledges, moving closer to the octopus that's more than half her height. This thing creeps her out and maybe her daughter won't be as weirded out by it as her, but if she is then Erin has a valid excuse for tossing the thing out. She just needs to bide her time and ignore the fact that this stuffed octopus is clashing with the layout and color scheme of her living room.
"So sweetheart," Camille starts off which leads Erin to holding her breath about what's going to be said next, "speaking of Jay's girlfriend and significant others since we're kind of on the topic already," very subtle, Erin thinks of her mother's smooth transition, "my Pilates instructor is a single guy, very good-looking, divorced, no kids, has a degree in finance, I think he works at a bank or something, that's not important though but, he teaches Pilates on the side and he-"
"Mom-" Erin interrupts. She comes over to scoop her baby up to give Jay a short break.
"I just think the two of you would be nice together. You should let me set you up."
Halstead coughs, nearly chokes at hearing Camille's offer to set Erin up. She'd just had a baby less than a week ago. Emma is barely a week old yet her mother is already suggesting her daughter start to date. Jay met Erin's eyes over the back of the couch, brow rising as he waits to hear her response, "Thanks mom but no thanks. I'm pretty occupied if you haven't noticed," and to make her point more clearly, she turns her baby around to rest her back against her chest, right between her breasts since her neck doesn't have the strength it needs to hold itself up yet.
"I've noticed but trust and believe, you are way more than Emma's mama."
"I know that," Erin bounced the baby in her arms, "but dating is only going to make me someone's girlfriend and I'm so much more than that too. I had a baby less than a week ago. My hormones are still balancing out, my body is still healing, my boobs leak, I still look kind of pregnant, my baby isn't even sleeping through the night yet. No man in his right mind is going to want to willingly deal with all that especially when it's not his kid and besides, right now, my priority is Emma and it should be Emma and only Emma."
The clipped tone Erin used in that last statement seemed to do the trick in nipping that topic in the bud. And Jay wasn't mad at it. He could use a good change in conversation, he'd even suggest a change in topic completely if it wouldn't have brought unneeded attention to him. So instead, he does what he came here to do and that's spend time with his baby, slipping her from Erin's arms before heading into the nursery to take a seat in the rocking chair, using the solitude of just daddy and baby to really spend time with her before it gets to be too late and he has to go home. Neither Erin nor Camille check in on them, join him or interfere with his alone time which he appreciates more than anything. He wishes he could have more of this, he misses this when he's home but he knows that no amount of complaining will change the reality of the situation. He has someone waiting for him at home and that someone isn't Erin and that someone is definitely not Emma.
"Little love," he whispers to the infant he has cradled in his arms as he gently rocks her back and forth, "I wouldn't trade you for anything in this world but I do wish I created you under better circumstances," he brushes his lips against her forehead, "you don't deserve to be wrapped up in my mess, you deserve more than a part-time dad, I promise you I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you never feel the way my dad made me feel. I'm going to give you the best life, even if me and your mom aren't together, you'll never feel unloved. Just be patient with me though, please, this is new for me but I'm trying, I'm learning and Abby," he pauses when the baby manages to break her arms out of the swaddle, he chuckles and resumes where he left off, "you haven't met her yet and I know if it was up to your mom, you probably would never meet her but Emma, she's the only connection I have to Wisconsin," for some reason he's able to have the conversation with his daughter but not her mother. He gives Erin vague, clipped responses but with his barely a week-old daughter, he's talking it out, using her ear to listen without any fear of being judged, "she's not perfect but nobody is," his daughter yawns and it's the cutest sight imaginable, "except for you of course, but Ems, I left everything behind to move here. I recently got permanent roots in Chicago and that's when I created you but-" he stops because it's all so complicated; his mind is a jumbled mess, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be using you to vent, but you're so easy to talk to, you're a really good listener and you don't judge, but your mom is right, I need a therapist. I can vent to them; they're at least paid to hear what I have to say."
Emma is quietly content in his arms. She's awake; her eyes are focused on his face, most likely mapping out the outline of his features. He gazes down at her, zeroing in all the similarities that once again reminds him of who her mother is, -her dimples, her beauty mark, her nose. She displays a gummy smile and Jay doesn't know if it's because she's happy or if she has gas but he enjoys the sight of it either way. He lifts her up and brushes his lips against her own, "Let's keep this conversation between us, at least until I figure out where to go from here. I did Abby wrong, I betrayed her trust multiple times and I keep thinking about if that were you, if someone did to you what I did to Abby. I can't leave her right now Ems," for the first time since they entered the nursery, his eyes flicker away to stare at the nightlight plugged into the wall before averting back to his daughter, "I broke her heart once. If I leave her, I'll be breaking her heart again and if she hurts herself, if she kills herself, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. I don't know what to do here. I feel like I owe her. I know I don't, at least that's what your mom tells me, but it doesn't make that feeling go away. Abby has never been this," he pauses to think of the right word to describe her, "unbalanced," he stops again to think of a replacement, "obsessed, I don't know but she didn't start acting like this until I did what I did and now I feel like I can't leave her until I repair the damage that I've done." He brings the baby to his chest, using her small form to provide himself with the comfort only she could provide; it's amazing how something so small can have the greatest impact. To have his heart outside of his body in the manifestation of his baby is scary to think about, to have his heart taken from his chest to live in another being, it's her, it's Emma.
Jay pulls Emma back from his chest and puts one hand behind her head and the other hand beneath her backside, "You're probably thinking you hit the daddy jackpot, huh?" It's said sarcastically, in a self-deprecating way which would tell anyone over a certain age that could hear that he truly didn't mean it, that he truly believed his innocent baby got the short end of the stick, "I'm sorry."
Silence surrounds them. He remains sitting, staring at his girl as she stares back at him, his eyes matching hers, almost as if he were looking at himself in the mirror. It felt as if she could look into his soul, could see the true him, the him that's underneath the layers of emotional scars inflicted upon him by his current toxic relationship. He wants to try harder. He needs to try harder. And it's not just for his daughter but it's for himself as well. But, to try means to actually put forth effort, starting with possibly reaching out to Abby to maybe seek a therapist from the same practice she goes to weekly. It can be a start. As the old saying goes, Rome wasn't built in a day. He needs to give himself the same patience he gives to everyone else. He needs to give himself the same grace and kindness that he continues to provide Abby. But, what he needs to do more than anything is remember all that Abby has done and continues to do. He needs to stop brushing it off because brushing it off leads to him forgetting so by the next time she does something else, it feels like the first when really, it's the first of many, "I'm trying to do better little love," he kisses her cheek.
Abby had frowned when she heard Erin reject her mom's offer of being set up. Immediately jumping to the conclusion that it's because she's waiting for Jay to be officially single, Abby shuts off the app and tosses her phone across the room, releasing a grunt of frustration at the thought of this woman coming between she and her man. She's been monitoring Jay's social media; she's been keeping tabs on his email and she even sporadically takes a peek -only on occasion and when the situation warrants- into Jay's cell phone. There's literally no justification for it, no occasion or situation that would support her snooping into his phone when she gave him her word that she wouldn't, but Abby chooses to see things differently, she chooses to see the fact that he had a break baby on her as a valid defense for her behavior. She leans back on the couch and shuts her eyes, willing the vision away of Jay casually sitting on the couch, relaxing as if he lives there, as if he belongs there, as if he has every right to be there. It wasn't fair, none of this was fair. Erin was living her life, that's supposed to be her baby, her home, her smiles, her life, her everything.
She must be a glutton for punishment because as her mind spirals down the path of obsession, she can't help but to retrieve her phone to look at the app again, only pausing momentarily to find a text from Jay, requesting to talk to her when he gets home, which only serves to make her nervous, to cause her thoughts to spiral even more out of control. She switches from her texts to her photos, zooming in on the picture of Emma she airdropped from Jay's phone to herself. She doesn't know when the picture was taken but she can tell based on the background that it wasn't at the hospital.
Abby looks even more closely at the picture, eyes watering up as her smile stretches even wider across her face and hardens. In the photo, Emma's eyes are open and there's a wide open-mouthed smile on her face as she peers up at who Abby can assume is Jay. She has dimples, the sight of them makes Abby clench her hand around the phone because she knows where they came from, she got those from her mother. She has a beauty mark, faded light and small just beneath her eye, it's barely noticeable if you didn't stare hard enough or long enough. Abby sniffs, the feeling of her heart breaking in real time, as she stares at a baby that should be hers.
Pain is in her heart. She has had a similar pain to this one before, but this time, it feels stronger. It weighs upon her, physically aching as if she were experiencing something as close to a heart attack as can be without actually having a heart attack. She wants to reduce the pain, to feel less of it, to distract herself from the pain of feeling like someone's hand is wrapped around her heart and they're told to squeeze it as tight as possible. She jumps to her feet, one destination -the kitchen- in mind, stumbling in that direction in the hopes of altering the focus of her attention to a different type of pain, a better type of pain, a pain that she has control over because it's self-inflicted.
Abby pulls the kitchen drawer open, causing it to nearly fly off the track. She is desperate to relieve herself of this growing pain and to release the tension accompanying her strengthening emotions. Her vision is blurred by her tears as she feels around for the right knife. She aggressively wipes at her eyes with the side of her free fist while the other hand roams and searches through the silverware drawer. A butter knife is too dull. A cleaver knife is too bulky. A bread knife is too rigid. A paring knife she finds next and it's perfect. The pointed tip of the blade is precise enough to give her the intended effect she's hoping for, "Okay," she rapidly blinks her eyes, forcing the tears to fall before shutting the drawer and venturing over to the sink. Her overwhelming thoughts start to ruminate in her mind, flashes of the conversation she witnessed through the lens of that damn stuffed animal start to repeat and she's desperate to feel a pain besides the pain those visions bring to her.
She stares down at the wallpaper photo on her screen of Jay, of the man that she loves so much, smiling down at him with such hope and love in her eyes. She just wants him to love her as strong as she loves him, as much as she loves him, for as long as she loves him. It's a forever thing, that's what she wants, that what she deserves. The image of perfection in her mind equals Jay Halstead; her unrealistic image of the man that's hers, of a man that she lucked up in getting, of a man that's one in a million and she knows if she loses him, she'll never find another like him. And even if she did, she doesn't want another like him.
Abby doesn't know what drives her to do it, but when the tip of the paring knife drags along her flesh, drawing out the initials of the man she loves, she feels an immediate sense of relief. The knife draws blood as she carves J.H. into the fleshy part of her thigh. It felt relieving when it suddenly stopped her emotions from intensifying any further. It turns her emotional pain into physical pain, the kind of pain she prefers, the kind of pain she is better with handling. She ignores the droppings of blood in order to focus on precision. She's mindful not to go too deep; she goes far enough that when it heals, it'll leaves behind a scar, a scar of his initials, branding herself for the man she wants to be attached to forever.