You Are What You Eat (Book One)

Chapter 44

Marshall

I was woken by a shrill cry coming from the baby monitor. Margret went to get up but I gently pushed her back to the bed. "I got this. You go back to sleep." She nodded, laying back down.

I yawned, walking out of the room and down the hall to the baby's room. Mikey moved in with Mason in his room. I turned the light on, seeing baby Max crying loudly. He sounded hungry. I gently shushed him as I picked him up out of his crib. "Shh I got you. What's going on?" I checked his diaper and it was clean. My instincts were right. He was hungry. Margret kept a few bottles in the fridge with breast milk.

I held him as I walked down through the living room and to the kitchen, getting a bottle and starting a sauce pan of water, placing the bottle in the pan to warm it up.

Max continued to whimper in my arms. I gently rocked him. Trying to get him to calm. It wasn't working. I went to my phone, putting on some happy sounding Mozart. After a few moments of rocking him and the sound of violins he seemed to calm, just a few whimpers here and there.

Once the bottle was warmed, I tested it and started feeding him, sitting at the dining room table. A text interrupted the music a moment. I wasn't able to get to it.

A few minutes later Margret was in the dining room with me. She frowned. "Everything alright?" I nodded, looking between the babe in my arms and my wife. "Yeah. He was just hungry. You should be in bed." She seemed pale and out of breath. It's been a month since Max was born and brought home. She hasn't been well since. She just always seems out of breath and nervous. She's just started looking pale. I worried and told her to see the doctor but she keeps refusing, claiming she's fine. She just needs to rest.

She walked closer, kissing me and then kissing Maxs head before turning and going back upstairs. I sighed, talking to Max. "She's stubborn isn't she son?" I took the bottle away to burp him. He made a cooing sound. I smiled. "I agree."

She keeps saying I worry too much but before we got married we found out her heart was damaged from her anorexia in her teens. During her pregnancies she's had one heart problem after another that worked itself out after they were born. But this? It doesn't seem to be going away but getting worse. She's always tired, becoming frighteningly pale which her make up hides most days and keeps getting dizzy spells. I fear her denial will catch up with her and she'll drop Max as she passes out.

Once Max was asleep in my arms I walked back upstairs, placing him in his crib, rubbing his brown hair gently before turning the light off and walking to our own room. I saw her asleep, curled up in three blankets. It was September and the weather outside was a humid 70 degrees. I swallowed my worry down and curled up next to her. She was fast asleep. I held her close, my worried mind not resting. We started work this coming Monday. It was Saturday right now. Lord knows what may happen between then and now.

When I woke it was nine am and Margret was not on the other side of the bed. I smelled food cooking as I got up, checking to see if she got Max. His crib was empty. I walked downstairs, smelling eggs and sausage cooking.

Mason was helping set the table while Morgan held Max, making cooing noises and getting him to smile. Mikey was in the living room, watching his cartoons. Mason smiled. "Hey dad." I nodded, yawning. "Morning son." As I started to walk in Margret was walking out. We met in the entrance of the dining room. She smiled. "Oh, you're up. Good. Just in time for breakfast." She had makeup on and wore a nice soft pink dress. Her hair was brushed nicely. It's the best she's looked since Max was born.

It worried me. She always had a bad habit of pretending everything is fine.

I played along with her as I sat down. She brought me a cup of coffee before setting my plate up with food. I saw the plate shake a moment before it landed safely on the table. She wasn't feeling well at all but she'd be damned if she would show it. Hiding was a natural instinct for her.