The nurse comes back in with our discharge papers, and helps us get Ella into the carseat. She cries for her too, which is a little reassuring. At least it’s not just me. The nurse is young and pretty and it’s probably the huge hormone shift and lack of sleep that makes me think she’s hitting on Noah. Not that I can blame her.
Everything is loaded and ready to go home. I’m excited to leave the hospital and get back to my own house, but scared not to have help at the call of a button.
Noah clicks the carseat in place and helps me into the back. Ella’s fast asleep, looking peaceful and adorable in a little pink dress with striped leggings and a matching bow.
“Are you warm enough?” Noah asks, slowly pulling out of the parking lot. It’s misting and cold out today, typical for the end of November.
“We’re good.” I look up and meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. We are good. Noah, Ella, and myself.Good.Right now, life is pretty damn good.
* * *
“Lay down, Lauren,” Noah tells me. “I got her.”
We’ve been home as a family of three for approximately two hours and I’m already having a panic attack. I grind my teeth together and nod, but don’t even attempt to move out of the living room.
“Lauren,” Noah repeats, a little stern. “You need sleep.”
“I know. I’m just … anxious.”
“Everything is fine. You just fed her; she’ll be good for two hours and if she wakes up I’ll bring her to you.”
I nod, staring at the wonderful man across from me. His sky-blue eyes light up when he looks down at our daughter, smiling without even thinking about it. Ella, so small in his tattooed muscular arms, is wrapped in a soft purple blanket, snuggled and sound asleep.
“Go rest,” he orders again. “Your parents will be over in three hours with dinner. Sleep until then.”
I blink, and some sense comes to me. “Okay. Thanks, Noah.”
“No need to thank me. I want some daddy-daughter time.” He flicks his eyes to me, still smiling. “She’ll be okay, I promise.”
I nod again, and slowly turn and go into my bedroom. The dogs follow me, and I close them in with me. Just one less thing to worry about. Though they’ve been fine. Vader got a little pushy wanting to sniff everything, but after both him and Sasha did their initial investigating, they lost interest in the little crying thing in Mommy’s arms.
Noah has been surprisingly calm. Well, maybe it’s only a surprise compared to me freaking out. I assumed I’d be nervous, but I didn’t expect to feel so much panic and have every possible bad situation run through my head at a million miles per hour.
I tuck myself in bed, irrationally thinking of ways Ella could drown and worrying about it. Vader jumps up next to me, and I carefully snuggle up next to him. It still hurts to move and I’m terrified of ripping out my stitches. I worry away an hour of sleep, then finally pass out from sheer exhaustion.
When I wake, it’s dark outside. I sit up in a panic, listening for signs of life. I hear nothing, then realize the dogs aren’t with me anymore yet the bedroom door is shut. I check my phone; I’ve been asleep for about three-and-a-half hours. I feel a world better, but panic rises in my chest and I get out of bed quickly.
Too quickly and I feel a painful pull in my vag. Wincing, I limp my way into the living room. Noah is sitting in the recliner holding Ella. Both dogs are at his feet, chewing on bones, and my parents are sitting on the couch. The TV is on, and my dad and Noah are discussing football in low voices. My heart settles back into my chest.
“Hey,” Noah says, looking up at me. His eyes sparkle and something passes through me, something that tells me things will be okay. For real. “I was just about to get you.”
“How’s Ella?” I cross the room and Noah stands.
“She’s been a sound sleeper this whole time. She woke up when I changed her diaper about an hour ago then she fell back asleep.” He carefully hands me our little girl. I try to keep her awake to nurse while my mom heats up dinner.
After we eat, my parents order Noah and me to shower and nap. Noah falls asleep right away and I get another hour and a half of shut-eye in before my parents leave, and then it’s just us.
We sit up in bed until we’re both too tired to stay awake any longer. Then comes the moment of truth: trying to sleep while Ella sleeps. I lay her in the bassinet next to the bed, checking to make sure her swaddler is tight enough three times before putting my head on the pillow. We get four hours before Ella wakes up fussing. Not too bad for our first night home.
* * *
“We kept her alive for a week,” Noah says, sitting down at the table. “I say we’re doing this parenting thing right.”
“I think so.” I brush my hair back and fix my dress after nursing Ella. I’ve worn nothing but pajamas up until tonight. My stitches aren’t healed yet, and I’m still sore when I walk, move, think about it … pretty much all the time. But after being cooped up for days, Noah suggested we go out, and I have to admit it feels good to put makeup and join the real world.
“I’m still trying to figure out how to do anything productive though.” I smile down at our one-week-old. “It’s hard to put her down. She’s growing too fast.”
“Fast enough to make you want to have another,” Noah jokes. Or maybe he’s not joking.