PART SEVEN: “YOU REALLY DID THIS TO ME?”
Ethan called at exactly 4:03 that afternoon.
“You really did this to me?!” he screamed.
I listened while he listed every item in the suitcase.
The dolls.
The diapers.
The bottles.
The alarm clocks.
The folder.
When he finally paused, I asked, “Did you read the letter?”
“You made me open that suitcase in front of the bellman!”
“I didn’t tell you to open it in front of anyone.”
“I have nothing to wear!”
“You have the clothes you traveled in. The resort has stores.”
“Do you know what things cost here?”
I almost laughed.
For six weeks, I had been measuring formula, calculating feeding times, and worrying about medical bills.
Now he was outraged over the cost of swim trunks.
“Where are you?” he demanded.
“At Megan’s.”
“You took my children?”
“I took our children somewhere I would have help.”
“You had no right to leave.”
His words were so absurd that I became completely calm.
“You left first.”
“That is different.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m coming back.”
“So am I,” I said. “When I’m ready and when it is safe for me to do so.”
“Safe? Don’t make me sound abusive.”
“I did not call you abusive. I said I was not safe caring for three premature newborns alone while recovering from surgery and sleeping in twenty-minute intervals.”
“That is not my fault.”
“No, Ethan. It became your choice.”
He lowered his voice.
“You’re trying to ruin my vacation.”
“No. I’m trying to save myself.”
Then I ended the call.
My hands shook afterward.
Megan found me sitting at her kitchen table, staring at the dark phone screen.
“You okay?” she asked.
“No,” I said honestly. “But I think I will be.”
That night, Megan took the 11:00 p.m. feeding.
My mother arrived and took the 2:00 a.m. feeding.
I slept for three consecutive hours.
When I woke, I cried so hard that my mother thought something was wrong.
But nothing was wrong.
For the first time since giving birth, I had rested long enough to remember who I was.
