Mostly Happiness

VIOLET

Ever experience those times when life feels like a blur? A tornado of mostly happiness, with a hint of worry and a smattering of other emotions, depending on the day and the happenings? That’s exactly my current state. On days like today, I realize how time seems to be flying, and I find myself sitting in silence in her room, watching her sleep soundly in her crib.

It’s a Saturday, and I’ve noticed that Ella tends to sleep a bit later when Tilly isn’t around. She’s such a serene baby, content and quiet for the most part. She hasn’t giggled yet, and she doesn’t babble. She just—watches. It’s a characteristic that takes me back to my own childhood, always the silent one, never the life of the party.

Naturally, I worry. I worry a lot. Ella’s eyes are so distinctive, and I couldn’t resist turning to Dr. Google for answers. For weeks, I convinced myself that she was deaf. According to Google, deaf babies often don’t make a lot of noise, and I was petrified that her eye condition was affecting her hearing. It took three doctors, including her own and Annie, to convince me that she wasn’t, isn’t deaf.

Thankfully, she isn’t deaf. But, oh, did I work myself into a state worrying about her being so quiet and reserved all the time. Turns out, we just have a quiet baby, and possibly a developmentally delayed one. This leads me to my second biggest fear. Autism. I know she can live a fulfilling life with it—Tyler is proof of that—but the stories of his childhood scare me. They really do.

What if Ella has the same condition as her father? How will she cope? Will she have friends? Will school be a nightmare for her? Should we consider homeschooling? What about relationships? An education? Boyfriends or girlfriends, kids? These thoughts, these fears, are my own personal torture.

It’s half past seven, and she’s still deep in sleep, clutching her taggiez against her cheek as she always does. Her mouth is wide open, her first two teeth already peeking through on her bottom jaw. Her red hair, just like mine, falls in tight ringlets down to her shoulders. She’s tall and lean for her age.

Ella isn’t quite ready for food yet, but the times fast approaching. But she loves breast milk. She latches onto my breasts and drains them as quickly as she can, much like two of her fathers…actually. I’ve stopped worrying about the milk in the freezer stash. Yes, I still pump sometimes when she decides not to drink, and one of the boys doesn’t drink it for me, but I’m not as strict about it anymore because there are thousands of ounces frozen, and I never leave her to need to use them.

The doctors advise me to try single foods over forty times before accepting that she doesn’t like them. I try, but I hate upsetting her. Besides, this is all theoretical right now. She’s not quite there yet.

Liz has been a godsend, coming over to help out by just talking. She shares tips that she used with Tyler himself. Not that she and Tyler see eye to eye yet. I wish I could ease that situation. But I’m stuck with the decision of whether to tell her what Zach and I did and then beg her to keep it quiet, or do we just come clean so that Tyler knows we know Tilly isn’t his?

I worry about telling him now that he’s fallen in love with Tilly. I fear he will think we are trying to get rid of her and instinctively go on the defense. It’s not like any of us would want Tilly to leave now. Far from it. She’s become just as much our child as Ella. Well, except for the genetic side of it. She carries none of our DNA, but that doesn’t mean we love her any less or care for her any less.

Tilly is nine months old now. She’s pulling herself up on all of the furniture, and I swear she will be walking before the month is out. Her brown hair also falls down to her shoulders, her bangs cut so they’re not over her eyes. She’s starting to slim out but is still chubby. Tilly just cut her seventh and eighth teeth, giving her four at the top and four at the bottom. She’s curious and loves the outdoors and the animals.

She gets easily frustrated and can throw a tantrum. And boy, can she throw a tantrum? I’ve never seen anything like it. She throws herself on the floor, wailing her little heart out if she doesn’t get her own way. It’s worse on Mondays after spending the weekend with Sophie, and it’s a struggle to teach her that she can’t throw a fit over being told no every week. But that’s how it has to be, unfortunately.

Sophie doesn’t believe in structure because she thinks a child should be able to forge its own way through the early years. But the four of us disagree, especially considering some of Tilly’s unfavorable behaviors. The only thing we don’t have to fight with is bath and bedtime. The girls love sitting in the bath together, playing with the rubber ducks and fish amidst their lavender baby bath bubbles.

Tilly then picks out all the books as we sit on the girls’ floor rug, reading and looking at the pictures before they both go down in their cribs. They sleep through from seven pm until six-thirty am, not a peep from either of them. Then we have the issue of Tilly calling me mama. It started when she was six months old, just a sound, or so I thought. But over the last three months, she has continued to call me mama even if I correct her.

Carmen says it’s because I have basically taken on the role of mother. I’m there Monday through Thursday doing everything a mother should, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty. Tilly has her own mother, Sophie, and I wonder if she calls Sophie mama. The guilt is real.

“What are you doing?” Callum whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist. I awkwardly move backward, half crawling and half being pulled back into his lap.

“Waiting for Ella to wake,” I whisper back.

“We have her doctor’s appointment in an hour. We’ll have to wake her,” he says, peppering my neck with soft kisses.

He’s right. I do have to wake her… I was just procrastinating. Besides, it’s not just Ella who needs to be there. I’m supposed to be getting my second injection today. We’re still undecided about when we want to add another pair of tiny feet, so we agreed to wait out this second injection and then let nature run its course after. I stand after only a few more minutes of procrastinating with Callum.

“Ella darling? Come on. It’s time to wake up.” I stroke her cheek before lifting her up onto my shoulder. Her eyes peek open, and she gives me a soft half-smile.

“Good morning, my beautiful girl.” She palms my face, holding my cheek like she always does first thing in the morning.

We stay there in our embrace until she’s fully awake, leaning back to look at Callum. He reaches for her as she does for him, and he greets her good morning as I walk to find her some clothes to wear.

“Good morning, my beautiful girl. We have a doctor’s appointment today, and then maybe daddy can take you and mommy for a treat?”

I find a pretty baby lilac-colored smocked dress with matching bloomers and socks, taking them to the changing table where Callum has already changed her diaper and washed her face and hands with a wet wipe. I leave him to get her dressed since he’s dressed and I am not. Then I meet him downstairs, where we have breakfast with Tyler. Zach, of course, is still in bed as he always is on a Saturday morning.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” I ask Tyler as we cuddle, watching Callum show Ella his breakfast items.

“I wish I could, but I have a ton of paperwork to get through.” I sigh into his embrace.

Tyler has been super busy this last month with a charity ball that their company is organizing for children with cancer. It’s quite the money pit, but the money is going to a good cause, so I can’t complain—other than the fact that Tyler seems to always be busy doing something for the ball.

“Remember, we’re visiting Matthew tomorrow,” I gently remind him.

A whole year has passed since his birth. His first birthday is tomorrow, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

The month of June has been a struggle, each day bringing us closer to Matthew’s birthday. I’ve been navigating through it with a forced smile.

I guess it’s to be expected.

I’m a mother to a child who isn’t here.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ve cleared my schedule for tomorrow, and so has Zach,” Tyler assures me.

“I’ve done the same. I’ve arranged for a few guards to accompany us. Have we decided if we’re staying in the apartment or driving back home afterward?” Callum inquires.

“I made a promise to visit Annie, so it’s up to you guys.”

“Why don’t we see how we feel?” Tyler suggests, ever the diplomat.

“Sounds good.” I nod in agreement. That concludes our breakfast conversation.

Callum and I prepare to leave shortly after, with him packing Ella’s changing bag while I breastfeed her.

She feeds from both breasts in the morning, so I don’t have to worry about pumping. By the time she’s done, Callum has the car ready. All I have to do is secure Ella in her car seat. Then we’re off to town for my check-up.