“The very damaging, frightening part of postpartum is the lack of perspective and the lack of priority and understanding what is really important.”
-Brooke Shields
Kayla sighed as she turned the alarm off on her phone. Noah was going to be home soon and undoubtedly would want some kind of food. She hadn’t made dinner in about two weeks and the last meal she made she had no doubt it was probably hot dogs and mac & cheese. With everything going on with the baby she just didn’t feel like making dinner. London for the most part was laid up because of his knee and wasn’t much help. He tried his hardest though but she felt all alone in this. He gets away from the incessant crying and boo hooing that happens in their house or it just doesn’t bother him as much. If Noah doesn’t get his way he used to boo hoo but ever since the baby came he just learned how to be on his own. Kayla loved that, now if she could just get the baby to hop up and change herself or make a bottle for herself then she was golden. But of course that is not the way life goes. The baby needed attention and Kayla just couldn’t do it anymore. She didn’t know what was going on just that she didn’t feel the need to be there for her kids. The baby could acquire the “entertain yourself” aspect just like Noah did. She just needed to ignore a couple of cries and then it would go away. At least that’s what she hoped. At least London wasn’t deployed and no matter how happy she was for him to be home, things with them were just…..different.
Maybe he just didn’t want to be with her. Hell he’s seen two kids come out of her vag who the hell would want to go in there after witnessing that. Not that she wanted anything like that going on, hell she even sleeps in a different room just so she doesn’t feel pressured in to having sex. What was she thinking? Having another kid, she almost died with Noah, and while things went perfectly fine with Aaron, she still doesn’t know if she even wanted another kid. Why would she have Emma? She had to have her girl and now she can’t stand her. She would never say that out loud but yeah. She can’t stand her own child. She feels so guilty every time she walks in to the room and the baby is crying. Half the time she just wants to turn around and go back to sleep, other ones…..well she don’t know what she could do. She knew it was wrong to feel like this but she figured it will dissipate. She will grow to love this child just like she loves the other ones she just needs time. Time away from the kids, house, just all of it.
She thought about leaving one day. Last week, London went off to work and she went as far as to pack a bag. She went in the baby’s room to kiss it good bye but she was sleeping. There is something about a baby sleeping. You don’t move, you don’t speak, and if notice you stop breathing. You do everything you have to do to make sure that peaceful face stay that way. There was something in her face and she couldn’t leave. She put her stuff back in the room and cried herself back to sleep. She was stuck, she wanted to leave so bad but just couldn’t. Not out of obligation but because she just couldn’t. London didn’t know about that day, still doesn’t. She just doesn’t want him to worry about something she knows she can deal with. She has her wall up and she is trying to get out of her funk. That’s all it is, she’s just tired and needs more sleep she’ll be back to herself in no time at all.
She was in the middle of cleaning Aaron’s room when she heard the front door open. She ran down the stairs to tell Noah not to slam the door but she was too late. He slammed the door and the baby began screaming at the top of its lungs. Her smile faded and she narrowed her eyes at Noah he murmured a soft sorry, and ran off to his room where he will undoubtedly spend the rest of the afternoon; not even bothering to ask if she needed any help. She went in to the baby’s room and sighed as she scooped her up and walked in to the kitchen to begin cooking dinner. She put the baby in the high chair with some little snacks and began to work. About 15 minutes later the baby started screaming again. She picked her up, checked her diaper, tried to give her a bottle, tried singing, tried everything but she wouldn’t stop. She turned towards the oven to find yet another pan burned and then the fire alarm went off. She couldn’t take it anymore. After throwing the pan in to the sink, she went upstairs, put the baby in the crib, and then ran in to her room and shut the door. Not even a minute later Noah was at her door screaming for her to open the door but she couldn’t do it. She sat down with her back against the door as the tears began to fall down her face. How the fuck am I gonna do this?
