When the morning comes

37 | son of my right hand

Thank goodness, he only puked right in your face a few times. Haha.

The first few nights were, just for every new parent, without much sleep. Quickly, we had found a routine for that. When it was your feeding duty, I pumped during the day so you had the milk for the night. When it was my feeding night, I did it skin to skin. Eventually you took over almost the whole night, every night. Said my body needed to recover from the birth, still.

But when you needed to get back to work, you couldn't stay awake. I tried taking it over each time, but you pushed me back to sleep always. You were so thoughtful, helpful. Supportive. Truly there. Like it's supposed to be, but I couldn't and wouldn't take it for granted. I admired it from you.

I remember waking up to his crying in the earliest of morning. The watery sun shone onto your face. You were worn out. Even his crying didn't wake you. It was your night, but I let you sleep. Took Benjamin to our room and fed him while watching the both of you. My boys. The ones I loved and love most in life.

Benjamin's eyes shot every direction, his little mind was not yet able to focus on one specific point. I watched him. Then, he smiled. For the first time directed towards me. I remember tears rolling down my face. Joyful tears.

You shot up, stared at the sun with wide eyes. "I forgot to feed him!" You rolled out of bed, but before you could leave, I reached for your arm.

"Amore." You saw me crying, quickly rolled back in bed. "He smiled!"

"What?!" You reached for our boy. Laid him onto your legs. You tickled him. Blew raspberries on his bare belly. He smiled again. The sight of your face.. prezioso. "He smiled at me too!" Your excitement took over. A new milestone.

My mind is going back through the years. Thinking of Benjamin. Thinking of us, as parents. Time flew. Hadn't it? Benjamin was a quick learner. Within no time, he crawled all over the floor. Climbed upon the stairs, chairs, other low things. With you reading a book, and me knitting a sweater, we both screamed when we saw how he pulled himself up on the coffee table. He fell back down onto his bum as we had startled him with our loud voices.

"He just stood up! Did you see that?!"

Soon, it was time to stop breastfeeding him. And the thought of that hurt. It was so abrupt.. I'm sorry, Zev.. you know what I mean. I know you have forgiven me a long time ago, but..

He's still healthy, right? It hadn't harmed him..

Moving on.. do you remember the both of us sitting oppositely from each other? Holding Benjamin up?

"Come to papà, amore." Your arms were stretched out, your smile was wide, your eyes full of pride. The memory warms my heart. I can picture it perfectly.

I held him in my arms, holding him up as he wobbly stood on his little feet, knees, legs.. "Come on, amore. Go see papà." Carefully, but determined, he took a little step forward. He fell quite a couple of times, but right there, you could already sense the Italian mentality in his blood. He never gave up, went through until he could let himself fall into your arms.

He had squealed, giggled loudly. Walked back and forth. Steadier each time. Within no time, a couple of days later, he walked through the house as if he came walking out of the womb. Not much later, he started speaking. He was clever. Heard two languages. Picked up on that.

When he was three, he didn't do differently than speaking full sentences. High pitched boy voice. Sweet. Mellow. Chubby cheeks. A bloated belly, pushed forward as he walked. His tan skin matched his brown hair. Little teeth. Small clothes. I was so in love. It often made me forget about the stomach aches I'd had, so very often. I hadn't mentioned it much to you. Didn't want to worry you.

Better said, didn't want to confirm my worried thoughts.

Benjamin wouldn't stop growing. Soon later, we waved him off to school. He cried the first day when we waved him goodbye. You nearly cried too. "Zev, it's alright. He's in good hands."

"But look at him, sitting on that tiny chair.. his bottom lip quivering. Tears glazing his eyes."

"He'll be fine, amore.. he just isn't used to us not being around."

"But.." You kept staring at him, waving at him, blinking your tears away. "What if he thinks we're leaving him here? Never coming back?"

For a moment I wondered if that comment came from your little boy's heart, who mourned his father's absence. His unreliability, still. It made me feel quiet, so I took your hand in mine and pulled you away. "You have told him a thousand times that you will pick him up. He trusts you, amore. After today, it will be less hard for him. Trust me."

You worked from home that day. You walked into the living room throughout the whole day, checking the time. Around half past two, you put on your shoes. "We should go. Pick him up."

"Tesoro.. he's in school for thirty minutes more and it's a five minute drive."

You let out a deep sigh.

Then I realised that when your father had left you, he had planted anxiety in your heart. Some sort of attachment disorder. Separation anxiety disorder. You were cautious with new contacts. But on the other hand, you clamped yourself to the people you loved so dearly, afraid to lose them. Sometimes it was a little too much, but I never blamed you for it.

When we picked him up, he ran into your arms. Kissed you. Smiled widely, with his little teeth. Explained excitedly what he had done. It relieved you so much, that when your head had hit the pillow at night, you cried and told me about your father. It confirmed what I had thought. My love and admiration only grew a million times more for you.

We found out much later that Benjamin wasn't the silent one at school, even when he was a kid of less words rather than a lot. He wasn't insecure. He was kinda loud, had the Italian mentality. But was modest with strangers, polite. Ate good food only. Dressed nicely. Spoke two languages so now and then. Made friends quickly. And had a strong interest in horses and cows. Cowboys. Western. His results were between okay and good. People liked him. We loved him to death.

I remember lying in bed on a Saturday morning. Benjamin was seven. He was lying in between us, snuggled with the covers, sandwiched by our bodies. You read him some stories. Benjamin listened intensely. With Eden, even when she wasn't there anymore, but knowing that we had had another child, in my mind, alongside with watching my two boys with their sleepy heads, disheveled hair and slow voices, I knew that I couldn't be luckier, happier. Feeling as if we could finally handle the world and its sorrow.

And then the stomach ache appeared harsher and more aggressive than it had ever done before.

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Hello! Hope you're all doing well :). I haven't been able to concentrate on writing much more the past few days, but hopefully I'll get more motivation.

Howd you like this chapter? Bits of Benjamin's childhood? Do you still recognise him in this?

Aurora handling such situations compared to Zev?

Let me know x