Chapter 197 One Hundred & Ninety Seven

Chapter 197 One Hundred & Ninety Seven
EMMA POV

They released us from the hospital at 10 AM.

Which was weird because nobody actually said "you can leave now." It was more like a gradual thing where nurses stopped checking on me and a doctor came by and said I could go, and then suddenly I was signing papers and getting dressed and preparing to take my daughter home.

To our apartment.

Just the three of us.

No nurses. No doctors. just us.

I had never been more terrified in my life.

The car ride home was stressful.

"Go slower," I said to Ryan every five seconds.

"I'm going the speed limit, my love," he said.

"It feels fast."

"It's not fast, my love."

"Grace is bouncing around back there."

"Grace is in a car seat. She's sleeping, she's fine."

I didn't feel safe. I felt like we were hurtling down the highway in a death trap with a fragile newborn.

But we made it home.

Ryan carried Grace's car seat inside while I hobbled behind him like an old lady.

My body still hurt. Everything hurt. Walking was an adventure. Sitting was an adventure. Existing was an adventure.

The apartment looked different with a baby in it.

Smaller. More cluttered. Less like a place where adults lived and more like a place where tiny humans took over.

Ryan set the car seat down in the middle of the living room like he wasn't sure where to put it.

"Should we put her in the crib?" he asked.

"She's sleeping," I said. "Let's leave her for now."

We just stared at her for a while.

"We have to feed her soon," I said.

"How soon?" Ryan asked.

"I don't know. The nurse said every three hours but Grace doesn't seem to care about schedules."

"What if she doesn't eat enough?" Ryan asked.

"Then she'll cry and we'll know," I said.

"What if she cries and we don't know why?"

"Then we figure it out," I said, even though I had no idea how we would figure it out.

Grace slept for about an hour.

Then she woke up screaming.

"She's hungry," I said, but I had no idea if she was actually hungry or just existing.

I tried to sit down and nurse her.

Sitting hurt. My stitches were pulling. Everything was awful.

"You okay?" Ryan asked for the hundredth time.

"I'm fine," I said for the hundredth time, even though I wasn't fine. I was in pain and exhausted and terrified and had a tiny human demanding food from my body.

Grace latched and fed for what felt like forever.

When she finished, she fell asleep immediately.

I didn't know what to do with my hands.

"Can I put her down?" I asked Ryan.

"I think so?" he said.

I carefully carried her to the crib in our bedroom and laid her down.

She didn't wake up.

"Did we just successfully put the baby to sleep?" Ryan asked, shocked.

"Don't jinx it," I said.

We went to the living room and just sat on the couch.

"That was terrifying," Ryan said.

"That was just feeding," I said. "Wait until she cries for no reason at 3 AM."

"Why would she cry for no reason?" he asked.

"Because babies cry," I said. "That's what they do. They eat and sleep and cry and poop. That's it."

"How do we know if something is wrong?" he asked.

"We don't," I said. "We just panic and call the pediatrician."

"That's not reassuring," he said.

"Nothing about this is reassuring," I said.

We lasted about thirty minutes on the couch before Grace started crying.

I went to the bedroom and found her screaming in her crib.

"What do you want?" I asked her, like she could answer.

I checked her diaper. Clean.

I checked if she was hungry. Maybe? She latched on and fed again.

"She just ate an hour ago," Ryan said from the doorway.

"She's hungry again," I said.

By 4 PM, Grace had fed approximately seven times.

By 6 PM, I was convinced my body was failing.

"What if I don't have enough milk?" I asked Ryan.

"The lactation specialist said you would," he said.

"She also said it gets easier and I don't believe that either," I said.

Grace fell asleep around 7 PM.

I was so tired I could barely see straight.

"You should sleep," Ryan said.

"I can't sleep," I said. "She's going to wake up and need to eat again."

"So sleep until then," he said.

I laid down next to Grace and closed my eyes.

I didn't sleep. I just laid there listening to her breathe. Counting her breaths. Making sure she was still breathing.

She woke up at 11 PM hungry.

She woke up at 2 AM hungry.

She woke up at 5 AM hungry.

By 6 AM, I was running on zero sleep and pure panic.

My nipples were bleeding. Not a little blood, but a lot of blood.

"Why is there blood?" I asked Ryan, showing him my chest like it was a crime scene.

"You need to call the lactation specialist," he said immediately.

I called and they said it was normal but I should use cream and adjust her latch.

Nothing about this felt normal.

By 8 AM on day two, I had cried three times.

Once because Grace was crying.

Once because my nipples hurt.

Once because I couldn't remember if I'd fed her on the left side or the right side.

"You're doing great," Ryan kept saying.

"I'm a disaster," I said.

"You pushed out a human two days ago," he said. "You're allowed to be a disaster."

Grace slept for about two hours in the afternoon.

I used that time to shower because I was gross.

Hot water felt amazing on my sore body.

But then I couldn't enjoy it because I was terrified Grace would wake up and scream and Ryan wouldn't know what to do.

I got out of the shower in record time.

Grace was still sleeping.

Ryan was on his phone reading articles about baby sleep schedules.

"Don't read those," I said. "They'll make you crazy."

"Some babies sleep through the night at two weeks," he said.

"Grace is not some babies," I said. "Grace is a tiny terrorist who wants to eat constantly and poop at random times."

"That's not a very nice thing to say about your daughter," he said.

"I love her with all my heart and she's still a tiny terrorist," I said.

Around dinner time, I realized I hadn't eaten all day.

"Am so hungry I could eat a whole Zebra," I said.