during the day in our arms. We’d given up the idea of the nursery entirely, moving the bassinet to Belle’s side of the bed within a few days of our return. That had worked for a while. I was more able to sleep through her newborn cries, so I took it upon myself to get up with her in the morning, so my wife could sleep. It was hard, but every time I looked into Penny’s gray-blue eyes, I knew it was worth it. Belle slept better when I had the baby off in another room. But lately, she resisted waking up when Penny needed to nurse.
I told myself I couldn’t blame her.
As the weeks passed, I found myself more aware of Penny’s cries, waking more easily to help with midnight changes and feedings. Belle would nurse her, pass her back to me, and roll over to sleep. It wasn’t that I minded. I didn’t. It was that I wasn’t sure if we’d simply developed a survival routine, so that we all got what we needed, or if we were going through the motions.
“Pictures in the morning,” Belle murmured, sliding beneath the sheets and rolling toward the side of the bed where Penny had finally fallen asleep.
I turned to her, rubbing her thigh, and kissed her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re up for it? Pictures can wait.”
“We barely have time to send cards as it is,” she said glumly. “We have a new house and a new baby. People will expect them.”
“Who cares what they expect?” I said gently. She went rigid next to me.
“I can handle a simple task like Christmas cards,” she snapped. Penny stirred, her whole body wiggling in its swaddle, and both of us froze. We’d grown used to holding our breath, worried that we’d accidentally woken her. When Penny remained asleep, Belle shifted slightly, so that my hand fell from her waist. “Good night.”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to clear this up. I hadn’t meant to upset her. I’d only meant to remind her that we didn’t need to worry about silly things like cards if it was going to make her more stressed out. But somehow I knew that staying so would only make matters worse. Instead, I settled for planting a kiss behind her ear. “Love you, beautiful.”
She didn’t respond. I told myself she’d already fallen asleep. She’d had a rough day. But I’d been telling myself that a lot lately, and I was having a hard time believing it myself. I laid next to her, staring at the ceiling, until sleep took me.
A mewling cry shattered the darkness and I rolled over, rubbing my bleary eyes. My hand reached to find Belle’s side of the bed cold and empty. “Need help?”
The only response was Penny’s cry. I sat up, instantly alert, flipping on the lamp on my nightstand. Belle sat on the edge of the bed, her head tilted toward the bassinet, one hand on its edge. At first, I thought she was rocking it, but neither she nor the bassinet moved. She must have fallen asleep like this, trying to get the baby back down. Penny grew more insistent, and I leapt up, circling the bed to the wicker bassinet. But when I reached it, I found Belle staring at the baby, her unblinking eyes rimmed with red from tears.
“Beautiful,” I said gently, leaning to pick Penny up.
She startled slightly, finally lifting her face to mine. I took a step back when her eyes met mine. It was obvious she’d been crying but that wasn’t what stunned me. I’d looked into her eyes a thousand times and known exactly what she was thinking: fear, excitement, joy. There was nothing there now. They were as void as a pool of still water at night.
I swallowed, worry pricking at the back of my mind. “Get some rest. I’ll take her to the nursery for a bit.”
She didn’t respond. She only crept toward the pillow and rolled away from me, wrapping her knees to her chest. I paused, wondering if I should ask her to talk, but Penny began to cry and I spotted Belle’s shoulders shake a little as she began to cry again. Stroking Penny’s back and shushing her softly, I tiptoed from the room and closed the door behind me.
Penny continued to fuss as I carried her to the nursery, but a few minutes later, she settled in a sleepy bundle against my shoulder as I rocked her. If only