Teething Troubles

TYLER

Two Months Later

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself grappling with an overwhelming realization—I couldn’t bring myself to contest Sophie’s decision regarding Tilly’s DNA. Instead, an unexpected warmth enveloped my heart, and I fell deeply, irrevocably in love with that little girl. It was a peculiar feeling, knowing there were no biological ties between us, unlike with Ella. Yet, the emotional bond I felt toward Tilly was astonishingly akin to that of a father and his own child.

For a time, fighting for what I believed was right occupied my thoughts. But as I watched the moments of laughter and joy accumulate during our time together as a family, I understood something profound. Callum, Violet, and even Zach—who had surprised me most of all—had embraced Tilly wholeheartedly, just as I had. It became clear that our collective acceptance of her presence was far more significant than any genetic connection.

With this newfound clarity, my focus shifted from conflict to nurturing a stable, loving environment for Tilly. I diligently worked to ensure that my relationship with her was strong, while finding comfort in the fact that the rest of the family was on this journey with me. Though the waters have not always been smooth—the ebb and flow of Sophie’s involvement has been fraught with complications—each moment Tilly spends with us feels precious and hard-won.

Sophie’s frequent absences weighed heavily on my mind, and each time she dropped Tilly off, I sensed her need for escape, an urge I could almost empathize with. My protective instincts surged as I yearned for Tilly to grow up in a home where she was cherished and wanted.

Zach’s transformation has been nothing short of remarkable. Initially, hostility clouded his heart toward Tilly, yet as time passed, a bond formed between them. Witnessing their connection develop has brought me unexpected joy; the tenderness of their shared laughter fills our home with warmth.

All of these experiences came together into a realization that echoed in my soul. I made the conscious choice to let go of past grievances, to embrace the present and future for the sake of Tilly. I welcomed her as my daughter, as Ella’s sister, and as an irreplaceable part of our family—a cherished role I wholeheartedly accepted, solidifying her place in our hearts as our daughter.

VIOLET

“Careful, Tilly,” I warn, adjusting the cushions around her to avoid a fall. She’s still learning to sit and tends to topple over when she reaches for something to chew on. She’s teething, her bottom front teeth are emerging, and she’s constantly drooling and in a bad mood. I can’t wait for her teeth to finally break through and give her some relief.

Ella, on the other hand, is comfortably supported by cushions. She can’t sit up on her own yet, so she lounges against the cushions, curiously observing her surroundings. Lola, our dog, is stretched out next to the girls as I watch over them, alone for the first time.

It’s been two months. Tilly is almost six months old, and Ella is three months. Zach and I never gathered the courage to tell Tyler about the DNA test we took a few months ago. Tilly has effortlessly become a part of our lives, and I suspect Tyler would fight to keep her in our family rather than push her away.

We have Tilly from Monday to Thursday since Sophie returned to work full time. The only exception is the week she works nights. During that week, we have Tilly the entire time because Sophie claims she’s too grumpy to care for her own child.

That led to a heated argument when Sophie showed up unannounced with Tilly because she was too exhausted. Tilly spends more time with us than at her own home now. It feels like Sophie only visits her child on the occasional weekends. We don’t interact much with Sophie, except during pick-ups and drop-offs, which became my responsibility when Tyler returned to work.

Neither Sophie nor I are thrilled about this arrangement, but it’s what we have to deal with. She comes over on Monday mornings and Thursday evenings to pick up Tilly.

Sometimes she lingers, irritating me to no end, and other times she leaves promptly. I prefer the latter. We started Tilly on solid foods last week, opting for baby-led weaning. It’s strange to parent someone else’s child, but I’m slowly getting the hang of it.

In fact, I’d be devastated if she left now. After spending so much time with her, Tilly feels like a second daughter to me, and a sister to Ella. Even Lola adores her. Tilly has us all wrapped around her chubby little fingers with her adorable sounds and expressions.

“Alright, girls, we’re due at Nana Carla’s house in an hour. Ella, you need to nurse, and Tilly, you need to finish your bottle.” I hand Tilly her bottle and then position Ella to nurse. My milk supply has remained high thanks to the Hakka and Zach’s nightly feedings. I’ve reached a point where Ella only nurses from one breast at each feeding, and I pump the other one for the freezer.

I’m storing up to thirty ounces a day. Both girls now sleep in their room—we don’t call it Ella’s room anymore—and they sleep through the night from seven pm to six am. This leaves plenty of time for Zach and me to enjoy some adult time in the playroom or the occasional romantic dinner, which usually ends with us ordering takeout because one of the boys burns our meal.

However, last week Callum successfully made chicken wraps and salad. As I attach the Hakka to my right breast, we sit in peaceful silence. Tilly finishes her bottle, and Ella nurses from my left breast.

Lola rolls over on the floor, scratching an itch on her back. This is how I spend every Tuesday and Wednesday.

Usually, Catherine is with me, but this week I asked her to let me manage on my own. Tyler returned to work, sort of. He’s working remotely from his office in the new building outside. I let him have the daytime to himself.

Zach returned to his job at the hotel and club, working Monday through Thursday. As for Callum, he’s been traveling a lot for his new job, which I’m not thrilled about. He’s been away for nearly two weeks this time, accompanying some celebrity’s daughter on her European tour.

Yes, I’m jealous. He shouldn’t be gallivanting around the world with other people. But two of our men fell ill, so he’s had to fill in for them for the past month.

I lean back as Ella nurses eagerly. She’s got a good latch and has learned to move with me, so she unlatches less often when I move. She’s like a vacuum and can’t get enough of her milk. Some days, she’s practically glued to my breasts. Tilly gurgles at me, tossing her empty bottle on the floor. I bring her onto my lap to burp her, and she lets out a loud burp after just two pats.

“Oh, Tilly, that’s not very ladylike,” I tease. She babbles and grins at me.

“Daaabaa,” she says.

“Exactly, we’re all about elegance and propriety in this house, darling,” I reply, and she grins at me again.

“Maaama,” she says, and I freeze at the sound.

“Oh no, baby girl, it’s Violet,” I point to myself, “or Vi.”

“Maaa Maa Maa,” she babbles, and I freeze again, trying not to read too much into it. She’s only six months old. She can’t possibly understand what she’s saying.

I stroke her cheek as Ella unlatches and reaches for Tilly’s hand, babbling back at her. “Well, it looks like you girls are done. Mummy, or Vi to you, is going to pack the changing bag. Can you girls hang out here with Lola for a few minutes?” They’re both smiling and reaching for each other.

Tilly grabs Ella’s hand a bit more forcefully than Ella grabs hers. I set them both down on the floor, surrounded by cushions.

“Stay, Lola,” I command, and Lola looks at me as if to say, “Okay, mom,” before lying back down with the girls. I remove the Hakka, pleased to see it full again. I empty it into a bag, measure and mark the amount, and put it in the fridge. Then I turn my attention to the changing bag.

I make sure to pack seven diapers for each girl, three clean Hakkas for Ella’s feedings, and three bottles and formula for Tilly. Carla will prepare Tilly’s food, so I don’t need to worry about that. Then I pack two spare sets of clothes for each girl. I usually keep shorts and T-shirts in the changing bag as a precaution. I grab two packs of baby wipes and a handful of diaper sacks, stuff them into the bag, and lug the bag down the hallway.

“Ready, girls?” I ask, picking them both up and heading out the front door to the sleek black Volvo XC90 that Tyler bought for us. The girls sit in the middle row on either side in their handy swivel car seats. But I forgot how hard it is to open the car door with two babies in my arms.

“Here, let me help,” Arnold, one of the security guys, offers after watching me struggle for a moment.

Lola barks at him once as he approaches us, always protective. I instinctively take a few steps back as he opens the driver’s side rear door. I notice his frown as he steps away from the open door.

I’m still uncomfortable around people, especially men. I know all the men here are trustworthy, but I still hate it when they invade my personal space. And there are a lot of them around here.

Even though I’ve made an effort to learn their names, where they’re from, and whether they have families, I still can’t match names to faces. But it’s always good to have information.

Arnold walks around the car and opens the other rear door for me. “Thank you, Arnold,” I mumble, not forgetting my manners. But that’s all I say as he watches me buckle the girls into their car seats.

I open the trunk, and Lola jumps in and settles into her dog bed. I close the trunk and go back for the changing bag. “Ma’am,” Arnold nods as I get into the driver’s seat.

I lock the door out of habit before starting the car. Arnold stays put, watching me prepare to leave. Even as I pull away, he continues to watch.

He’s on house guard duty today, it seems. “Alright, girls. Grandma Liz is going to be there today too. We’re going to be on our best behavior, and Tilly, not too many purées for you,” I tell them as I pull up outside Carla and Jerry’s house.

To my surprise, it’s Daniel who greets me outside. “Damn, is it the end of the semester already?” I mumble to myself, feeling foolish for forgetting that he’s home. I even have it written in my diary that we always go for a ride whenever he’s back.

“Vi,” he says, yanking open my car door. He’s pulling me out of the seat before the seatbelt has even had a chance to retract.

“Oops,” he says, his cheeks turning pink as he realizes he’s yanking me out while I’m still tangled in the seatbelt.

“Did you miss me?” I tease.

“Absolutely. And I missed my Ella bear and my Tils too,” he replies, pulling me into a hug. He’s grown since the last time I saw him. He’s packed on more muscle and added another inch or two to his height. He’s towering over six feet now. His shoulders and chest are wide, and his waist is narrow but packed with muscle.

“Been hitting the protein shakes again?” I tease as he lifts Ella out of the car while I go around to get Tilly.

“Football practice and the gym…gotta stay in shape, Vi. Otherwise, I’ll be round and pudgy before you know it,” he says, making me laugh.

I open the trunk for Lola as she jumps down. She’s immediately on high alert, sniffing at Daniel and barking her head off while keeping an eye on Ella.

“Easy, Lola, he’s a friend,” I say, patting her head as she stops barking at him. Lola was quite the birthday gift. She makes me feel so much safer.

Our little protector.

“Got a girlfriend yet?” I ask as Daniel reaches out to pat Lola. She growls at him until I snap my fingers, then she lets him pat her head twice before she walks off toward the house.

“Nope. Why, Vi? Are you jealous?” he teases, making me frown.

“No, just curious.”

“Your mom is still trying to get me to settle down and have kids before I graduate college, little bear,” he says. The idea of a girlfriend sounds nice, but maybe not kids just yet.

I worry about him being so far away from home alone. I know he says he has friends, but I can’t help but worry that he’s lonely in that big old apartment by himself.

Stop meddling, he’s a grown man.