Here's a whole lot for ya:
With all three children sleeping peacefully in the living room, so they wouldn’t wake Graham, I
started to make a huge breakfast for him and I. I made eggs and bacon, toast, sausages and
even pancakes. I got the orange juice out of the fridge just as Graham walked in, his hair all
messy and rubbing his eyes.
“What’s this?” he asked, not really believing what he saw. I was never much of a cook.
I could do it if I tried, but being pregnant and having children, this entire past year I never once
cooked for Graham.
“Breakfast, honey. Breakfast is served!” I kissed him on the cheek and motioned for
him to sit down.
“It looks.. great!” he said. It was apparent that he was very surprised.
“I just thought I would make us our first, nice, “just-you-and-me” breakfast. You know,
soon we will have three hungry babies sitting at this table with us and things won’t be so calm
anymore!” I laughed. I kissed him again before sitting down.
We ate peacefully, and as I was doing the dishes, Ellie, Ashton AND Olivia started to
cry.
“I can handle this!” Graham said. Three babies? I stopped doing the dishes and
watched from the kitchen. Graham was holding Ashton, rocking Ellie’s basinet with his foot, and
trying to give Olivia her pacifier with the other hand. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Need some help there, big guy?” I asked, taking Olivia out of the basinet. I
successfully gave her the pacifier and she quieted down. I picked up Ellie and made her a bottle.
“They’ll all probably eat soon. Just make three bottles, if you can.” Graham said.
I sighed. With a baby in my arms I struggled to make even one bottle. Ashton was still
crying in Graham’s arms, and he moved into the kitchen to avoid waking the nearly sleeping
Olivia.
“Wait, I have an idea.” Graham said. “I’ll be right back.”
He ran into the nursery and I could still hear Ashton crying. He emerged with the carrier
that goes over your chest to carry a baby.
“How do I use this thing?” he asked.
“Like a backpack, honey, put it on backwards like a backpack.” I said, laughing, but at
the same time almost asking him to bring me one.
With three bottles successfully made thanks to Graham’s great idea, all three children
were again sleeping peacefully.
“This is going to be some crazy year, isn’t it?” I said. My head was in Graham’s lap. He
was running his fingers through my hair as he talked.
“I hope not,” he said. “But I think it’s pretty inevitable.” He smiled. That’s what I had
always liked about him, his beautiful smile. I thought back to the day he invited me to play
foos-ball with him. I remember looking at his gorgeous brown eyes and his spiked brown hair. I
also remember how fast I connected, with all the things we had in common. I remember asking
myself how he could love a girl as ugly as me. Stricken with anorexia and a cutter I didn’t know
how he could have become attracted to me.
I had always been skinny, I supose, but I never felt that I was pretty enough. My
parents had never told me I was pretty, and I never heard it from anyone else except Graham
and Jeremy. I had short, choppy brown hair most of my life, but during my numerous
hospitalizations and through anorexia and cutting I hadn’t trimmed my hair at all. I just recently
cut it back to the length it used to be.
The thought of Jeremy made me uncomfortable again. I was sitting next to Graham and
thinking about Jeremy. What kind of horrible wife was I? Then I thought about our kids and
how much I loved them. I didn’t want them to be like me. A cutter, an anorexic, a big mess of
pain and heartache. I pulled up my sleeves and looked at my scarred arm. My kids would one
day ask where those scars came from. How could I tell them? You can’t tell a child you cut
yourself when you felt sad or unwanted. What was I supposed to do? I started to cry quietly in
Graham’s lap.
“Baby, why are you crying?” he asked, wiping off the tears that had rolled down my
cheek.
“Graham, look at me. A skinny, anorexic cutter. What am I supposed to tell my kids
about these?” I said, showing him my arm.
“I can’t let them be like I was.” I cried. “We have to steer them away from doing stupid
things like I did in my childhood.”
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